Give Unto Me
by Adia Rose
Summary: If things had been different...if that one moment had changed her mind...would things have been different? Ronnie and Danielle back in February...what if things had happened with just one big change? Written by Adia Rose and RachelF
1. Chapter 1

**A/N--- This is a new fic. The idea has been made by Adia Rose and each chapter is edited by Adia Rose but it is written by RachelF.**

**In EE terms I suppose Adia Rose is the storyline producer/storyliner and RachelF is the writer. Sort of.**

**Anyhow, this was an idea conceived by Adia Rose when her friend asked her to come up with a different way to do the reveal. I would have written it myself but with Truth, Chasing Angels and Damaged and Birthday Girl too I didn't want to start another fic. But Adia Rose will be writing some chapters of this herself and each chapter although mostly written by RachelF will be edited and added to by Adia Rose.**

**Sorry for that longwinded explaination. I hope you all enjoy the story.**

**The song that runs through is "Give Unto Me" by Evanescence.**

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**Place onto me your burden,  
I'll drink your deadly poison.**

The room was warm, almost uncomfortably warm, the heaters working to block out the frosty chill of the winter's day. Or maybe it was the pressure, the anxiety that was causing the small bead of sweat to form at the base of Ronnie's neck. She looked towards the girl beside her and decided it wasn't the heat as she could clearly see the goosebumps prickled up on Danielle's bare arms.

As she leaned forward hesitantly towards the counter in front of her, Danielle took a fleeting look at Ronnie, who sat at her side just as she had promised. She couldn't help but notice how uneasy she looked, ill almost, swaying tentatively backward and forward in her seat. Letting her fingers grasp the glass of water that lay on the counter, Danielle brought it up close to her lips. It was full of the water that could wash away her troubles with one sip; half full, half empty. Next to it on the counter lay a single pill; the pill which would spell the end for her baby. Small and white, insignificant, yet deadly. That one little white pill that could decide the fate of three lives. As she reached forward to it pick up, the doctor spoke to her softly, her voice calm and considered; she outlined the logistics of the procedure Danielle was about to undertake as if they were the most simple thing in the world, "then, the pills tomorrow will soften the neck of the womb and cause it to contract, causing the loss of the pregnancy."

"Pregnancy", Danielle repeated, her voice almost scornful and bitter as she moved, placing the glass back onto the counter next to the pill. She wanted everyone to stop lying, to stop pretending that this was clinical and benign. She wished the doctor would stop talking; she wished she could just take the pill and be done with it. It should have been easy; this was what she wanted, after all, to be rid of her child. Yet somehow the simplicity of what she was about to do made it all seem a thousand times worse. The simplicity of the procedure, set against the mammoth, blinding reality that she was about to kill her own child.

"It's great that you've come with Danielle today". Still using the same measured tone the doctor now spoke to Ronnie, who lifted her head from staring at the floor as she was addressed, still looking decidedly uncomfortable, "and I strongly recommend that you have someone with you tomorrow". Ronnie looked away, back at the floor, almost automatically, wishing that she could be somewhere else, anywhere else and that this would all just be over.

"Will you", Danielle asked, hoping desperately that Ronnie would say yes. She needed her to be there, even if Ronnie could never know why. She couldn't do this alone.

Ronnie sighed, holding her hand out to stroke Danielle's forearm tenderly. She couldn't put her finger on why Danielle caused these feelings in her, this compulsion to protect. Perhaps it was because she could see something of herself in the eyes of this timid teenager, something from a past existence. Guardedly, she nodded, grinding her teeth with steely determination that she would do the right thing by this young girl, however difficult it would be for her.

"Yes. Yes, of course", she promised, unable to hide the sigh as her breath hitched. She didn't want to watch this. She prayed silently that she wouldn't have to be a part of it. She had to fight every gut instinct that she had to be able to just keep herself silent and in her seat as she helped this girl murder the one thing she knew she would never forgive herself for.

"The procedure is very safe. After the second pill you will have some strong cramps in your stomach and there will be bleeding", the doctor continued. Ronnie cringed slightly, shifting awkwardly in her chair. Thinking about the details didn't make this any easier, instead it just made it more real, more graphic. "this could start within half an hour of taking the pills and you may pass the pregnancy any time between a few hours and a couple of days later. It's different for everyone."

Gulping, Danielle felt Ronnie's cold fingers beginning to entwine around her own, but she could not look around, into her mother's eyes. While this closeness provided some comfort, Danielle felt sick as she considered the glaring irony of the situation. Ronnie had said that getting rid of her baby, getting rid of Amy, was the best thing she had ever done, and here she was, willing to support a young girl getting rid of her child in much the same way.

Yet that child hadn't been just any 'Amy', that child had been her. Danielle couldn't bear to even lift her eyes from the desk where they were fixed, horrified that despite Ronnie's cold words she had let herself get to this stage. But even more to the point, terrified that she would give herself away, that somehow Ronnie would be able to tell that this wasn't really what she wanted; that really, she was different. That she wanted to keep her baby, but she just wasn't strong enough to do admit it. To go through with it.

"I know you've had counselling already, but...any questions", the doctor asked Danielle, smiling warmly. Danielle shook her head, but her eyes had begun to glaze over as if she wasn't really in the room. "Ready then?" she continued, pushing the glass along the table towards her patient, coaxingly. Danielle nodded her head, but her eyes remained glazed; removing her hand from Ronnie's grasp, she leaned forward towards the counter once again. With the glass in hand, she raised the pill to her lips cautiously, but was forced to stop as the door behind her shot open, a breathless Stacey bounding in through the threshold.

"Danielle, don't do it. Once you've done it you can't undo it," the words tumbled unreservedly from Stacey's mouth in breathless pleas as the clinic's receptionist forcefully tried to remove her from the room. In a flurry of action, the door was shut safely behind Stacey, leaving Danielle and Ronnie both staring agape. "Are you ready to go on", the doctor ventured, trying her best to catch the young girl's eye and gloss over Stacey's rude interruption, which had visibly thrown Danielle.

"Danielle?" Ronnie reassured, attempting to catch Danielle's eyes as they strayed across the room, "this is up you, you know". She could hear that Danielle's breathing had quickened and could see her leg trembling, bouncing rapidly up on down on the floor. Ronnie stared at the pill still clutched between Danielle's thumb and forefinger. She wanted to say those words too. Every part of her was aching to reach out, to grab Danielle's hand, and take that pill from her, to throw it as far as she could and stop Danielle from making this mistake. Every instinct told her to scream out the words to Danielle to rip the tablet from her and say 'Don't do it! Don't you kill your baby." But she didn't. She sat stock still, her eyes still watching Danielle, trying to gauge her reaction, her intentions. Danielle's hands were shaking, the water in the glass she held began to spill over the side, a small drop landing on the leg of Ronnie's trousers.

"Ronnie, I'm sorry, I…", Danielle jumped to her feet, her instinct at having tipped water over her mother being to run as far away as she could. "Danielle, it's fine, don't worry", Ronnie moved her body around in her seat in a further attempt to catch Danielle's eyes but this proved more difficult than she'd hoped.

Shaking her head, Danielle began to speak in torrents, "I can't do this. I know you think…I'm sorry, I just can't", Danielle's eyes began to flit wildly around the room, looking everywhere except at her mother, as if she was trying to plan an escape route, "I didn't mean to… I'm sorry I brought you here Ronnie".

"It's fine, Danielle. I don't mind…", Ronnie began to speak but was immediately interrupted again by a tearful Danielle, "I just can't do it. I'm sorry". With that, Danielle darted from the room, slipping slightly on the wet floor as the glass and pill both slipped from her hands to shatter at her feet. For a second Ronnie just stared at the empty space, then down to the floor where the pill lay slowly dissolving in the pool of water. For the first time that day Ronnie could breathe.

Danielle kept up her speed as she dashed from the room. She passed a single young girl, in the clinic waiting area, her pale face and fervent dash clearly alarming the patient. Danielle felt relieved that Stacey appeared to have left already, and continued out into the street and beyond.

Emerging seconds later from the toilet, Stacey was greeted brusquely by Ronnie bursting from the consultation room behind her, "Stacey, where is she?"

"What do you mean, where is she? I leave her with you for five minutes and…" Stacey began, noticing the confused looks on the face of the awkward girl still waiting she stopped mid sentence, "Why? What's happened?" Stacey suddenly realised that Danielle had not emerged from the room after Ronnie.

"You're the one stood out here, did you not think to stop her leaving", Ronnie exclaimed, getting increasingly more angry. Part of her however, couldn't stop the feeling of relief, of almost elation that Danielle had done the right thing, she had made the right choice.

"Stop her leaving? What are you on about? Where's she gone?" Stacey blurted out, confused and angered by the entire situation. Ronnie Mitchell was the cause of all of this, she knew it.

"Do you think I'd be asking you if I knew that? She just upped and left. Your little outburst was really helpful, Stacey, thanks. What were you thinking?" But Ronnie knew what she had been thinking because her mind had been filled with the same thoughts, the same urges. To stop Danielle from making the biggest mistake of her life. But it wasn't their choice to make, not Stacey's and certainly not hers. It was Danielle's and Ronnie had tried to respect that, no matter how she felt herself.

"I was thinking about Danielle, wasn't I", Stacey began to raise her voice "which is more than I can say for some people"

Interrupted for a second time, Stacey was forced to take a step back from her position, pointing aggressively at Ronnie, as the doctor appeared between the pair, "Please, this is not the place for this. Danielle is obviously in a fragile state, she needs her mother beside her", she looked at Ronnie, "you aren't helping her arguing here like this".

"Oh no, I'm not…she's not", Ronnie snapped, her mouth open wide at the doctor's suggestion. Stacey rolled her eyes, saying something incomprehensible, but undoubtedly derogatory about Ronnie under her breath.

"Look, I'm sorry doctor. We'll be leaving now", she grabbed hold of Stacey's arm, but her hand was shaken off as Stacey took herself outside and began to run down the stairs, away from the older woman's calls, obviously highly annoyed at her accusations.

"STACEY, don't walk away from me", Ronnie shouted as she closed the clinic door behind her, "where has she gone?" Stopping short, Stacey turned as Ronnie caught up behind her, "I have no idea, Ronnie. I was in the toilet, I didn't see her leave, I had no idea she was going anywhere"

"Well, where will she have gone?", Ronnie asked, wound up; she'd already managed to let Danielle down. Hailing a black cab as it passed, eager to get away from an angry Ronnie, Stacey replied, "I don't know, do I?"

"But you're her best friend Stacey, You know her better than I do" Ronnie shouted, exasperated.

"She asked you to come here with her, didn't she?" Stacey barked bitterly, "Maybe I'm not as important as I look", Stacey turned back to Ronnie as she climbed into the taxi, "I'm sure Danielle did what she really wanted. Even with you trying to push her into doing something else."

Ronnie watched, defeated, as Stacey's taxi pulled away, leaving her alone to hail her own transport. She had no idea where Danielle had run to, and Stacey had been little help. Feeling overwhelmed with guilt as she climbed into her own taxi, Ronnie asked the driver for 'Walford', before pulling her knees to her chest and burying her head in her hands. Was this her fault? Should she have gone with Danielle at all?

Watching Danielle running away had been like watching a mirror image of herself, doing exactly what she had wanted to do all those year's ago. But back then she'd been too scared to run away. There had always been something stopping her; someone. It had all been worked out for her, just like Danielle had seemed to have it all worked out. Clearly, they were even more similar than she thought.

Arriving at her destination, Ronnie paid the driver, thanked him and walked, exhausted, up the stairs to her flat. Putting the keys into the door, she sighed, but as she turned the key she noticed a slip of paper poking from the underside of the door. Kneeling to pick it up, she sat down on the cold concrete, before opening the letter and reading,

"Ronnie, I'm sorry. I couldn't do it. I couldn't get rid of my baby. I'm sorry I let you down. I know you regret ever having your baby, you're better off without her. But I couldn't. I can't. I'm sorry Ronnie."


	2. Chapter 2

**Written by RachelF, added to and edited by Adia Rose. Concept and plot by Adia Rose.**

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**Why should I care if they hurt you?**

_"Ronnie. I'm sorry. I couldn't do it. I couldn't get rid of my baby. I'm sorry I let you down. I know you regret ever having your baby, you're better off without her. But I couldn't. I can't. I'm sorry Ronnie."_ As Ronnie finished scouring over Danielle's scrawl for the first time, the first of many times, she realised that she hadn't taken a breath for the whole time she'd been reading.

Her cheeks and hands freezing cold as she remained at her perch on the top step outside her front door, Ronnie stared at the words inscribed on the crumpled piece of paper in front of her, grasping the note so tightly in her shaking hands that the corners began to fold inwards under the pressure of her fingers. Each word jumped out at her, each line causing a separate stabbing pain deep in her gut. It was almost as if Danielle had known exactly the words which would cause her the most pain, the order to put them in, the words to repeat. While Ronnie did not doubt that Danielle would be having thoughts and feelings hellishly similar to those she had had herself as a pregnant teenager, she wondered how today, nearly twenty years since she had given away her own child, surely enough time to forget those thoughts, to get past them, she still managed to have such an effect, even through the written word. Three short sentences written by this random, inconsequential girl, enough to bring Ronnie to her knees, doubled over in pain, both physical and emotional.

Still, despite the irrationality, Ronnie read each word, each line, over and over again, remaining transfixed, relishing each syllable as if it held some deep meaning she had to decipher. At their most simple, she knew that these words had meant something to Danielle as she wrote them; these words were what Danielle believed to be truth, these words provided Ronnie with the reason that she had run away. And these words had been meant for her, for her eyes only.

Certain words in particular jumped out at Ronnie as if Danielle had written them in her own scarlet blood, _"I know you regret having your baby, you're better off without her"_. These hit Ronnie like a ton of bricks. Had Danielle really only taken confidence in her because of this glaringly false confession she had made, off the cuff, to make her feel better? Clearly, Stacey had been right; Danielle had told her, Ronnie, over her supposed best friend. This confession obviously meant something to Danielle.

But what was it that Danielle really saw in her? Were her experiences, those painful experiences she still couldn't bear to remember, really that obvious; obvious enough for Danielle to latch onto, to cling onto so steadfastly? Ronnie closed her eyes, hating the lie that she had given. It felt like she was betraying her Amy, her very memory by having even considered telling the lie that she had. There had not been one second where she hadn't loved and cherished her daughter. She wasn't better without her. She was empty without her. And that lie, was Danielle basing every choice she made about her own baby on the essence of a lie?

_"I'm sorry Ronnie; I couldn't get rid of my baby. I'm sorry I let you down."_ Over and over again she'd written 'sorry' and as Ronnie read the letter that one repeated word resounded in her head, burning into her as if she were reading each instance aloud. Each time Danielle repeated the word 'sorry' it sounded more desperate, each time her written voice becoming more pleading. In fact almost every word of Danielle's letter constituted an apology; but, painfully ironically, she was apologising for doing the right thing. Apologising for doing the very thing that Ronnie wanted her to. The one thing that Ronnie wished she had done.

Danielle thought she'd let her down. But truthfully, Ronnie knew that she should have told her the truth from the start; she could see that now, plain as day. She should have made it clear that having her baby, giving life to the precious being who ruled her heart even from heaven now was not the worst thing that had happened in her life, but the best, no matter how much pain it had caused her. It wasn't having her baby that had hurt, that had ruined her. It was losing her. The moment in her life where she changed for good – the very instant she went from being a happy, fun loving child to a bitter, twisted young woman, old for her years, with a lifetime of worries at only fourteen years old.

Perhaps she still could tell her, Ronnie thought suddenly, as her hands began to shake more violently with the cold, to the extent that she could no longer hold the letter within her grasp. As the precious piece of paper fell from her hand to the step below, Ronnie watched as the wind caught it and it flew whimsically across the square. Jumping immediately to her feet, dropping her keys in the process, Ronnie took chase, tripping over her own feet as she descended the flat's steps in an attempt to retrieve Danielle's letter. As it flew towards the entrance to the tube station Ronnie kept her eyes fixed on her goal, stopping only as a figure hurried quickly past her front gate, making their own way to the tube station, stepping over the letter as they went,

"Stacey? Stacey, Did you find her?" Ronnie called when she realised who had just appeared in front of her. She still couldn't work out why she cared so much, why it mattered so greatly. Was it because she felt guilty for her lie? Was it because she saw a part of herself in the vulnerable girl? Danielle had seemed so sure, so certain that the abortion was what she wanted, or that's what Ronnie wanted to believe. But as she thought back, Danielle had never seemed sure, not of anything, not even herself. Always asking what she, Ronnie would do. Asking if she was doing the right thing. And each time Ronnie had said yes, 'yes you're doing the right thing'. She wanted to let Danielle make the choice that was snatched so viciously away from her, she wanted to let Danielle do what she truly wanted. But it hadn't been that way had it?

Stacey did not stop to listen to Ronnie's questions, continuing hurriedly, batting away the piece of paper which the wind had just blown in her face, "Please, Stacey. Is she at home? I need to speak to her". Bending over, Ronnie finally grabbed hold of the letter, and stuffed in deep into her coat pocket, safe from the wind.

"And, where is home Ronnie?", Stacey replied, derisively, not turning around. Ronnie continued as if she hadn't heard what Stacey had said, eager to make sure she had the chance to speak to Danielle if she could, "Did she go back to yours, Stacey. Please, I need to…I just have some things I need to say"

"Do you think I'd be here if she'd gone home? How stupid are you Mitchells?" She snapped, "She's gone, Ronnie. Taken her bags, all her stuff; it's all gone", Stacey took a deep breath; "I take it you didn't see her come past? I thought there might be time to catch her before she left"

"I left the clinic after you Stacey. You got back first. She's had nearly an hour". Ronnie looked at her watch, as if an attempt to regain the time they'd left between Danielle running and her arriving back at the square. Clearly, Danielle had had time to write and post the letter under her door, but the scrawled handwriting made it clear that she hadn't hung around. Ronnie sighed, depositing her hands into her pockets, where she could feel the letter now scrunched into a ball. She was gone. She'd let Danielle down, not the other way around.

"Well, if she calls, tell her I'm sorry", Ronnie asked Stacey with a sigh, turning back towards her flat.

Stacey looked at Ronnie indignantly, "What are you talking about? Tell her herself, you've got her number"

"I don't think she wants to talk to me", Ronnie told Stacey, resignedly, "I tried ringing from the taxi, it went straight to answer phone. Please, just tell her when you speak to her. Please?"

"She wasn't answering for me either", Stacey replied, a tinge of sadness in her voice for a second, before she started to approach Ronnie with fury in her eyes. "This is your fault, you know.". Ronnie's mouth dropped open, "Why did she go to you eh? What did you say to her?" Ronnie stared. She didn't want to admit that she had told Danielle that an abortion was the right thing to do.

"It was her choice Stacey. I let her make her choice and I supported that." Ronnie spoke more quietly than she had expected to.

"Yeah right!" Stacey shouted. "You told her to get rid of it didn't you? Ronnie Mitchell, never happy unless she's making someone else miserable! Ruining your own life not good enough for you? No you had to go and ruin Roxy and Sean's and now Danielle's. You think you were helping her did you?" Stacey's voice was bitter and angry as she stared Ronnie down.

Before Ronnie could open her mouth, Stacey continued, "Well, I can tell you, you weren't."

"She came to me, Stacey. I didn't ask for her to tell me. I didn't ask for this", Ronnie had begun to shout now, vehemently defending herself, part of her furiously angry that Stacey could suggest that Danielle's disappearance was her fault, the other part of her equally as guilty that Danielle had run away at all; guilty that she had even taken her to the clinic in the first place.

"I dunno why she went to you. She could have chosen anyone. I don't know why she chose you but it was the biggest mistake she made now isn't it. You did this Ronnie!" Ronnie watched as Stacey walked away, back through the Square, leaving her stood staring at the tube station. She never asked for this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Written by RachelF, edited and added to be Adia Rose. Concept and plot by Adia Rose.**

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Stacey stared ahead, gazing aimlessly through the crack in her bedroom curtains, her mobile phone stuck fast to her ear as she listened to a string of seemingly endless rings. Angry, she pushed the red 'end call' button on her phone, cursing under her breath; each and every time she tried to call her supposed best friend no answer came, so dialing the number she now had memorised once again, Stacey resolved to give Danielle one more chance to pick up her phone.

This had become a pattern over the three days since Danielle's intended abortion, since the day she'd run from the clinic; taken her bags and left without a second word. Stacey called her phone five or six times a day, giving Danielle ample chance to pick up the phone, but each time she was disappointed. Danielle's phone was rarely on, and when it was it either rang to voicemail, or was cut off fervently by the receiver. These latter instances got to Stacey the most. She didn't know whether she would even want to talk to Danielle if she did ever pick up, at the moment she just wanted to scream at her.

"You've reached Danielle's phone…", Danielle's chirpy voice rang in Stacey's ear as her voicemail message kicked in again. Cutting the line before she permitted herself to hear the extra voice in the background, her own laughter, a reminder of better times, Stacey proceeded to throw the phone angrily across her bed. What was Danielle doing, she thought, kicking her foot against the side of the bed in frustration.

Stacey was annoyed, aggravated by Danielle's predisposition to run away at the slightest sign of trouble, but despite her friend's lack of contact, she remained pleased, deep down, that in the end she had chosen to do the right thing, albeit by these extreme means. Stacey doubted whether her last minute input had had much to do with Danielle's strangely abrupt change of heart; she had preferred to speak to Ronnie, for reasons Stacey could not even begin to understand. But, when it had come down to it, when the moment had come to take that small, white pill – a poisonous concoction intended to kill the child growing inside her - she had been unable to go through it; unable to do the one thing she had seemed so determined to do.

Despite her irritation, Stacey could hear her uncle shouting her name from downstairs, "Stacey! Stacey, where are you?" he called. Sighing, Stacey picked herself up, automatically glancing back at the discarded phone, which had begun flashing her screen saver; a picture of herself and Danielle on a night out, wide smiles, drinks in hand. She should have seen it coming, Stacey thought to herself as she got up from the bed, leaving her phone behind her as she made her way to the door.

Yes, she should have known that Danielle would run away. Walford had got to her the same way that it got to everyone; Walford and its residents. When it came down to it, the only place to go was as far away as possible. The only thing to do was run. Maybe Danielle was actually the strong one - maybe everybody who had left her were doing the right thing? Maybe running took courage, maybe it wasn't just 'the easy option'?

"STACEY? Stacey, shouldn't you be out on the stall?" Charlie bellowed, now halfway up the stairs, "Yes, alright Uncle Charlie. I'm coming!" Stacey shouted back, having had enough of her uncle's despairing calls. Emerging from her room, Stacey was surprised to be met by her uncle head on; he had now reached the top of the stairs and proceeded to take up a position at Stacey's bedroom door, leaning against the wall.

"It's 2 in the afternoon, Stacey love, what are you doing up here?", there was something in his tone of voice that said he knew exactly what was wrong, exactly what Stacey had been doing; he didn't really need to ask at all.

"Nothing.", Stacey lied, attempting to pass her uncle, but Charlie had moved into the middle of the corridor so that Stacey could not pass, "Seriously, uncle Charlie!". Stacey gave her uncle an angered look.

"If you need to talk about anything, I'm always here love, you know. I know that ever since Danielle…", Charlie stopped mid sentence as he watched Stacey's eyes narrowing, "I know she's important to you, Stacey", Charlie smiled, trying to sound encouraging, hoping that Stacey would actually listen to him; that he might be able to be there for her properly.

"You mean a lot to her as well, love, but Danielle probably just needs some time", unconsciously, Charlie had begun to back away from Stacey along the corridor, "she had a difficult decision to make. Maybe she just needed to go home and see her family for a bit?"

"I don't think Telford's where she would go if she wanted advice", Stacey snapped. She was still bitter. She couldn't help it, why Ronnie Mitchell? Of everyone in Walford, why Ronnie? Why the woman who was only ever happy when she was causing other people pain? Why couldn't Danielle have come to her?

Leaning forwards, she grabbed the moneybag that her uncle had clutched in his left hand, tying it around her waist agitatedly, "I'm fine with it, really. Danielle did what she wanted, I know that". Barging past Charlie as she finished her short speech, Stacey headed quickly down the stairs, stopping briefly to tie a scarf tightly around her neck, before braving the biting, winter air. Rubbing her hands together and blowing into them in an attempt to warm up, Stacey made her way to the stall, feeling her pocket for her phone, but sighing as she remembered that she'd left it behind on purpose.

A couple of hours passed with little custom for Stacey on what was a freezing cold winter's day, most people staying wrapped up warm inside their homes. Stacey couldn't help feeling envious of them. She turned to the side, about to complain to Danielle about the stuck up passers by and that they should just call it a day and use what little money they had made, to make the day worthwhile with some drinks. But of course Danielle wasn't there. Stacey slumped to lean against the stall, folding her arms over her chest and glowering at the almost empty street. Soon enough, she decided that there was little point staying out when nobody was bothering to buy, but just as she had decided she would pack up for the day, Stacey noticed the tall figure of Ronnie Mitchell making her way across the square in her direction. Stacey took a deep breath inwards; Ronnie was the last person she wanted to speak to. As far as she was concerned, Ronnie had been the cause of Danielle's departure, plain and simple.

"What do you want?" Stacey barked as Ronnie reached her side, before she'd had even the slightest chance to try and speak.

"Stacey", Ronnie could not look Stacey in the eye, she spoke quickly, as if she really had somewhere else she needed to be and talking to Stacey was just another chore in her long day, "Look, Danielle, has she been in contact? It's just that…"

"What do you think, Ronnie?" Stacey snapped in reply. She was not about to let this woman, this person who had essentially driven Danielle away, contact her friend and make things any worse for her. In Stacey's book Ronnie was the last person that Danielle should have spoken to about something as important as abortion; she'd made her decision a thousand times more difficult by asking Ronnie's opinion and hearing her clearly warped answer.

"Well, I don't know. I thought…" Ronnie replied, her voice quiet, as if she knew she shouldn't be asking at all.

"Well, you thought wrong, ok Ronnie? She hasn't called. She's gone, alright? Thanks to you", Stacey hurried around her stall, stuffing clothes into boxes as she spoke, "why do you care anyway. She didn't actually mean anything to you, did she?"

"Look Stacey, I didn't come here for an argument. I just thought you might've heard something. She left a coat in my flat, I thought she might want it back. But never mind, yeah", Ronnie turned on her heels, unwilling to give Stacey the time of day in her current mood, walking quickly in the direction of Arthur's bench. Sighing, she knew she had been silly to assume that Stacey would have any answers and, even more to the point, that she might ever give them to her even if she did.

As she reached the seat where she was headed, Ronnie pulled her phone out of her pocket, staring at the screen intently. As quickly as she could, as if embarrassed by her actions, Ronnie dialed Danielle's number. Listening intently, she heard it ring to voicemail as she had expected it to do, before she spoke, "Danielle, it's Ronnie. I'm just calling…well, I've found a coat you left behind in my flat. I thought you might want it back", Ronnie exhaled deeply, "Call me if you get this. Um, well, I'll see you".

Ronnie hung up hurriedly as she finished, annoyed at herself for giving in and ringing Danielle, using the excuse of a stray coat of all things. She'd tried so hard to block the thoughts and feelings out that had risen to the surface over the past three days, unsure why she actually cared so much about this girl; the girl who'd followed her around for months. The strange, eager girl who'd seemed so desperate to know what she thought, what she would do in her situation. The problem for Ronnie was that she knew exactly what she would do; at least, she knew what she would do now. What she would have done twenty years ago had she been given the choice. But Ronnie had lied to Danielle, told her the complete opposite of how she really felt. That giving away her baby was the best thing she ever did.

Every time she thought about what she'd said to Danielle she felt sicker. More like she needed to do something to make up for her bare faced lies. Over and over Ronnie had told herself that it was not her fault or her business to worry about Danielle; that she did not need to be there for her, that she hadn't been obliged to go to the clinic with her, but she had done so out of kindness. She had not gone because she felt, in some way, connected to this girl or seen the similarities in their stories, had she?

Still, as much as she tried to block it out, the stark image of Danielle running from the abortion clinic kept flashing across Ronnie's mind, putting her constantly on edge. Danielle had caused her nothing but trouble - Stacey was blaming her for Danielle's disappearance, even though she'd only ever tried to help the girl, help her through something she knew only too well about – but still Ronnie felt the need to do something about it. To make sure Danielle was safe at the very least. She had to do it, yet somehow she simply could not understand why.

Danielle's appointment, her running away so frantically, her note of pleading apology; they had all sparked in Ronnie a strange sense of urgency – the memories and feelings unearthed from her past unintentionally by this young girl where too prominent to ignore. As she dropped her phone back into her pocket, Ronnie took out a piece of paper upon which she had written a name and a number, that she desperately hoped would help in the search upon which she was to embark. A search for another lost child, which had now taken forefront position in her mind.

It had been just three days since she'd sat on the cold steps outside her house, reading Danielle's note, but in that short time Ronnie had thought about her own daughter even more than she had for weeks and months, if that was at all possible. Now she knew she had to find her Amy; she had to face her demons and finally look for her daughter's grave.


	4. Chapter 4

Ronnie sat still but for intermittent shivers, perched on Arthur's bench for at least fifteen more minutes despite the freezing cold air whipping at her face and playing with her hair. As the wind became increasingly biting, Ronnie, though not standing to leave, reached into her pocket to retrieve a pair of woolen gloves to keep her shaking hands warm. As she did so she felt her phone; almost instinctively she wrapped her fingers around it as if willing it to ring. She knew it probably wouldn't, and even if it did she wasn't sure if she could answer a call from the person she secretly hoped it would be - Danielle. Nevertheless, there she stayed, one hand in her pocket, the other be-gloved hand gripping a piece of paper with a number and a name upon it – the adoption agency details - that she had found while avidly searching the internet that afternoon.

Earlier in the day she had been too scared to put her thoughts into action, she had seemed to be in totally the wrong place at the wrong time. But deep down Ronnie knew she had to find her daughter, that was perfectly clear to her now. It was just a case of how she would go about it, how she would get the strength up to ring the adoption agency after all these years. Willing herself that now was as good a time as any, Ronnie poked the keys on her phone clumsily with her gloved hands, hoping and praying that someone would answer who could help her. After pressing only five buttons, however, Ronnie saw out of the corner of her eye someone she really did not want to speak to – more so, even, than Stacey.

Ronnie's heart began to race as she spied Roxy turning the corner towards her. Panicking, she jumped to her feet, dropping her phone to the floor in the process. In her frantic hurry to get away, Ronnie swiftly bent down to pick up her phone, momentarily forgetting the important task she had set herself, before taking to her heels, running away from Roxy. As Ronnie reached her front door, she could see that Roxy was making her way in the same direction, more quickly now; fumbling in her pockets she felt for her keys. Quickly, she realised that not only were they not there, but neither was the piece of paper she'd been holding onto so tightly just minutes before – she must've dropped it alongside her phone, Ronnie thought, hitting her front door with rage. Roxy was shouting in her direction now, so instead of doubling back to find the lost number, Ronnie sighed heavily, realising that there was nothing she could do.

Ronnie could hear her sister's footsteps approaching in the street as she entered her flat, having found her keys inside her bag. She closed the door behind her hurriedly, just in time to hear Roxy's voice calling after her, "Ronnie, please, stop" she implored, as she reached the door moments after Ronnie had let herself in, ringing the bell numerous times, perfectly aware that Ronnie was just inside.

"Come on, Ronnie. Answer the door", Roxy continued, banging on the woodwork now, even though she was obviously being point blank ignored, "please, this is just getting silly", Roxy implored her sister to open up, hitting the door like a child who'd been shut in her room. Inside the building, Ronnie had opened her second door, and despite still being able to hear Roxy's pleas, she slammed it shut behind her, as loudly and violently as she could manage.

"I'll take that as a no then, shall I?", Roxy retorted to the closed door in front of her. Ronnie did her best to try and regain her composure as she listened to Roxy, her heart rate and breathing so rapid now – a result of both her hurry to get away from her younger sister and her frustration at having lost her notes – that she was forced to lean back against the door, taking a breather, instead of continuing any further into the room. Her eyes began to brim with tears as the sound of furious knocking continued outside.

Wiping the tears quickly from her eyes, Ronnie resolved that she would not let her sister get to her any longer, but that more to the point, that she would not let her ruin her chances of finding Amy; this was just a set back, she thought, taking off her coat and hanging it behind the door, before making her way to the laptop computer already set up at the kitchen table. Earlier in the day Ronnie had sat at the same seat, rifling through pages of information, before locating the one number she needed so desperately; now, here she was again, just hours later, needing to do the very same thing again.

As she rushed through the log on pages for her laptop, Ronnie knew exactly where to go for the number she needed. And soon enough, there it was again, plastered across the screen in front of her. Crossing the room quickly to retrieve her phone from her coat pocket, Ronnie knew that now she simply had to ring the number; Roxy had eventually grown tired of knocking on the door, leaving her in peace – she could waste no more time. Breathing in and exhaling deeply, Ronnie prepared herself mentally for what could be one of the most important phone calls of her life. She dialed the number, deliberating over each button she pressed and as she lifted her phone to her ear, the voice of a young girl had answered before she knew it.

"Yes, hello. My name is Ronnie Mitchell", she began, her heart rate almost immediately picking up again as she spoke, "I'm calling with regards to…", Ronnie stuttered as she came to explain why she had rung. Why had she rung? What was she doing? This was crazy. Yet, somehow she felt she had to know. She was ready; now was the time.

"Is everything ok madam", the voice on the end of the phone asked cautiously.

"Yes, I'm sorry, everything is fine. I'm calling because I need locate some information. About my… it's about my daughter". Ronnie took a deep breath before continuing, tapping her fingers against her desk in an attempt to exert some of the nervous energy pent up inside her, "I believe you should have information about her whereabouts"

"Ok, madam, but I'm going to have to ask you a few questions before can continue", the girl answered, "Are you the birth mother, madam?"

"Er, yes I am", Ronnie had known that there would be questions, answers she would have to give, but now they were being asked they seemed so much more difficult to answer than she'd imagined. The answers she had to give were obvious, simple, but it was always so difficult to talk about her Amy, to actually say her name and express her feelings in words. Ronnie sighed, remembering the way she had spoken to Danielle about her own child just days before, "Please, I want to know where my daughter is. She… my daughter, she died"

"I'm very sorry, madam, but I can't hand any information out to birth parents", the girl on the line sounded scared, as if she somehow knew the reaction she would get from Ronnie, "But if you would like to leave your details with us, we can…"

"I don't want to leave my details. I already did that years ago. Fat lot of use that would be now, anyway", like a child, Ronnie had begun to raise her voice as she realised it might be more difficult to get what she wanted than she had first thought.

"Please, madam, if I could ask you to lower your voice", the receptionist began, but an increasingly angry Ronnie cut her off, "Lower my voice? I think you'd be raising your voice if you were me", Ronnie had stood to her feet now, beginning to pace the room, her free hand rubbing her forehead in great circles.

"I'm very sorry, madam, but we cannot give out details over the phone. Not to birth parents. There really is nothing…"

"Right, I get it. Thanks so much for your help", exasperated, Ronnie hung up her phone, throwing it down on the table next to her laptop. Before she had a second to spare, however, it began to vibrate loudly. Thinking that it might be the agency ringing back or even, though it remained unlikely, Danielle replying to her message, Ronnie sprang into action, picking up without even looking at the caller ID.

"Oh God, Ronnie. Thanks for picking up. Look, please, we need to talk", Roxy spoke so quickly that it took Ronnie a few moments to realise what she had done, who she had unintentionally answered the phone to. When she finally did, however, it did not take long for the anger bubbling inside her after her previous conversation to reach boiling point.

"Look Roxy, how many times do I have to tell you? I don't want to speak to you, not now. Not ever", Ronnie was shouting at full volume now, "Please don't call me again"

"But Ronnie, please, I need your help."


	5. Chapter 5

"I need your help. Ronnie, please, just listen to me for a minute", Roxy pleaded desperately, pacing up and down her room, her hands flailing wildly as if she were in the same room as her sister, willing her not to put the phone down, "It's Amy, she's…", Roxy couldn't continue.

Staring into baby Amy's cot, Roxy watched her daughter's tiny figure lying floppy in the centre, continuous screams emanating from the child's mouth. She felt stupid ringing Ronnie, completely helpless, but she had no one else to ask - Jack was away, no one was around in the Vic. Ronnie was her only option, and underneath her bravado, Roxy knew that Ronnie would probably know the right thing to do; she might even want to help. And Roxy really did want her help, she wanted Ronnie to know that she was sorry, even if it was difficult to admit.

Roxy could hear her sister breathing quietly but rapidly on the end of the line; she knew she hadn't hung up, but Ronnie did not reply straight away. Unsure what she was expected to do, whether she should wait for Ronnie to speak or jump in herself, she hesitated for a second; Roxy's nature did not allow her to stay quiet for too long, however, so before a few brief moments had passed she began to speak again hurriedly, trying frantically to get everything out that she needed to say as quickly as possible.

"Please, Ronnie, I know you're there. It's Amy. I don't know what to do with her. She's just… all floppy, screaming blue murder, and she's so warm, Ron", Roxy stood above baby Amy now, her spare hand stroking the girl's forehead. Beads of sweat dripped from her soft skin onto the cot mattress below; she felt so warm that Roxy had to take her hand away after just a few seconds, scared to make her condition any worse.

"She's not stopped screaming since I got home. I left her with Jay all day, he had no idea what to do", listening intently despite her frantic race to get everything out that she needed to say, Roxy knew that Ronnie still had not hung up her phone, her breathing tentative but obvious in the background of the call, yet she had no words.

Roxy had never seen Amy like this before, she had never seen any child like this before, and she was scared. Amy was her whole life, she meant everything; she had not the faintest idea what she would do if she ever lost her. It simply did not bear thinking about. And now she had Amy, now she had her own baby, Roxy finally understand the pain that Ronnie must have felt when her child was taken away – for years she had had no idea what Ronnie's problem was, why she carried on for so long fussing over something that had happened when she was 14, but now Roxy understood. She could imagine exactly what it would feel like to have Amy taken away, and right now those thoughts were rushing through her head ten to the dozen.

"Please. Ronnie", Roxy had reached the point when she knew she'd have to give up if Ronnie didn't start to speak very soon; had she been with her sister she would have been on her knees, beseeching Ronnie to help her.

"Look, Rox, calm down", speaking as quietly she could, Ronnie finally broke her silence. "How long has she been like this? You're sure she's not just teething". Roxy leapt back in immediately, thanking her lucky stars that Ronnie had not hung up on her, yet, "Jay says she's been like this pretty much all day. He only called me a few minutes ago though, I've never seen this before Ronnie, this is more than teething, I know it."

"Have you taken her to the doctor?", Ronnie asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, slightly perturbed, though not overly surprised given her sister's record, that Roxy had chosen to ring her rather than talk to a doctor in the first place.

"Well, no, I…"

"Maybe that would be a good idea. I'm not a doctor Rox, but I think she probably needs to see one", Ronnie sighed. Deep down, beneath her anger and jealousy, she loved Roxy's Amy, she wanted her to be ok just as much as Roxy, but she had more important things to do than be worrying herself about what was probably just a 24 hour bug, a huge overreaction from Roxy.

"Thanks, Ronnie. It's just, I…well…", Roxy couldn't finish her sentence.

"Was there something else you wanted. 'cause I'm actually quite busy", Ronnie really didn't want to be talking to Roxy any longer. She couldn't make small talk with her these days, she simply had nothing to say.

"Well, I… I just wondered if you'd come over. It's just, there's no one else…. I'm scared Ronnie, I've not seen her like this before", Roxy knew she was asking a lot, "oh, you know what Ron, don't worry. Stupid question"

Ronnie looked at the computer screen in front of her and the number she had called just moments before, only to be knocked back by the receptionist at the agency. There was nothing she could do here now. Sighing, she spoke to her sister begrudgingly, "If you really want me to, Roxy, then ok. I can be there in, say, ten minutes". Ronnie cursed under her breath; she couldn't believe she was doing this, letting Roxy back in. She really couldn't let her defenses down, not now. But somehow the fact that it was Amy who really needed help spurred Ronnie on. It was a child in question. She had a responsibility to fulfill as her aunt, one that she had failed to fulfill in so many other instances. She had to put that right, any way she could.

"Oh Ronnie, thank you so much. I can't take much more of this screaming. My God Ronnie, its…", Roxy babbled on into the phone, now unaware that Ronnie had hung up. At the other end, Ronnie stared at her phone in disbelief, not quite able to believe that she had said yes to meeting with Roxy, for whatever reason. Looking at her watch, she realised she had given herself only five minutes to prepare. Rushing from place to place, Ronnie pulled her coat back on and fastened a scarf tightly around her neck. Picking up her phone, she dropped it into one pocket, scribbling the agency number down and dropping it into the other – she would keep it close to her, she never knew when it would come in useful.

Making her way across the square alone, no one else out on such a bitterly cold evening, Ronnie shivered violently; as she forced herself to brave the freezing temperatures she also put up another obstruction, a mental barrier to the emotions this situation was bound to bring to the surface. Everything with Danielle over the past few days had knocked her so far back in terms of her emotional security that she had not known what to do with herself – now, having called the agency to try and locate Amy, the one possibility that had kept her moving forward, Ronnie had been rejected, knocked back again and she felt powerless to do anything more, even though she knew it was vital that she tried. Ronnie could hear Amy screaming as she made her way into the Vic. She kept her head down as she entered the bar and continued up the stairs, ignoring the various punters in their seats, clearly disconcerted by the incessant screams of a child coming from upstairs.

As she reached the top stair Ronnie could hear Roxy's pleading voice alongside Amy's wails. Entering the front room, Ronnie saw Roxy cradling her tiny daughter in her arms, rocking her back and forwards as she stared into her blue eyes, "Come on Amz, this isn't like you. Please, come on", her words were forceful, although they sounded like they should have been whispered, her voice tinged with more than a hint of fear. Ensconced in the bright red face of her daughter, Roxy did not notice Ronnie making her way into the room quietly, but as she span around, preparing to pace the room again, Roxy was surprised to see her sister had taken a seat on the sofa behind her.

"God, Ronnie, you nearly gave me a heart attack", she shouted, taken aback, before smiling, hoping that Ronnie would appreciate the sentiment.

"Well, it looks like you've got everything under control here", Ronnie said sarcastically, rolling her eyes, although not meaning to sound quite as mocking as she did. Missing Ronnie's tone altogether, Roxy replied, "You're joking, aren't you? I don't know what to do with her". Ronnie got to her feet and made her way around to Roxy's back so she could look into Amy's eyes, stroking her forehead as Roxy had done before.

"She's not in a good way, is she? Definitely a case for the doctor, I think", Ronnie kept her sentences short, getting to her feet, eager to get away as quickly as possible. Before long Jack would turn up to see his daughter, she was sure of that; part of her wondered where on earth he was now, why he had not showed up already.

"Could you stay here and watch her for a few minutes? I just need to get some stuff together, make a few calls", Roxy asked. Pleased to hand Amy over for a second, Roxy left her daughter in Ronnie's reluctant arms and run out of the room quickly. Once she was gone, Ronnie sat back down on the sofa, her legs beginning to feel weak, as if they could not support her weight any longer. Forced to hold a screaming Amy close to her chest, Ronnie rocked her backwards and forwards, mirroring Roxy's previous movements.

"Shush, Amy, come on. What has your mummy been doing to you? Poor baby", she whispered into her ear. Closing her eyes, Ronnie tried to imagine how she would have felt if this had been her Amy; she knew the answer immediately, because she loved her child so much more than anything else she'd ever known, however little time they had spent together and however much time had lapsed since she'd seen her last. She had to help Roxy if she could, however jealous she was; however much she wanted this child to be hers. Minutes passed, however, and Roxy did not return, Amy getting more and more agitated in arms other than her mother's. Ronnie's irritation at being left holding the baby, this being the last place in the world she would have chosen to be - helping Roxy, holding Jack's child, the child which should have been hers - mirrored the baby's increasing agitation. Getting up, Ronnie made her way through towards Roxy's bedroom, keen to get out of there as soon as she could. As she approached, however, she could hear Roxy talking on the phone.

Pushing open the door she gave Roxy a stern look, causing her to hang up the phone abruptly, "Are we going to see this doctor sometime today? I'm doing you a big favour being here at all you know, Roxy. Don't push your luck", Ronnie's tone was harsh and Amy could tell that from within her arms, screaming louder and louder in reply.

"Yes, just a few more minutes. Please Ronnie, calm down, you're scaring Amy", Roxy held her hands out to her sister, and Ronnie, only too happy to let Amy go now happily obliged, "Scaring her?", Ronnie asked, disdainfully, "I don't have to be here you know"

"Please, Ronnie. This is Amy. Our little Amy, remember? She needs her aunty.", Roxy pleaded, reminding Ronnie what they had agreed before Amy had been born.

"Don't you dare, Roxy! Our little Amy? She's not ours. She's yours", Ronnie choked, her finger pointing accusingly at her sister, "Yours and Jack Branning's". She couldn't hold herself back any longer, the thought of Amy being Jack and Roxy's child taking over. She'd almost manage to suppress the anger she felt whenever she held the product of her sister and Jack's night of lust, but she should have known that somehow this time things would be different, more difficult, "Where is daddy, anyway? That him on the phone, was it?", Ronnie continued, her tone scathing.

"That doesn't matter Ronnie. It…", Roxy stopped mid sentence as she was interrupted by a livid Ronnie, "Of course it matters, Roxy. Are you really that stupid? Why did you ask me to come here, anyway?"

"I had no one else Ronnie; I needed your help. I knew you'd know what to do. And Jack, he's gone away. He's…"

"Oh, so I'm second best, am I? Couldn't get Jack in, so had to settle for poor old Ronnie?", Ronnie was so angry with Roxy she could feel her skin boiling. Listening to Amy wail, she had to shout over her screams to be heard.

"Jack is Amy's dad, Ronnie. Of course I'd want him here", Roxy cradled Amy to her chest now, knowing that with every word she shouted back at Ronnie she would make her crying worse. But she had to say something, she had to defend herself, "Look, Amy doesn't need this. I don't know why you came here in the first place if all you wanted was a fight".

"I don't know why I came over, either. Biggest mistake I've made all week", Ronnie spat. With that, she turned on her heels and ran back down the stairs, through the bar and out into the cold, night air, tripping over her heels as she reached the street. Falling to her knees on the pavement outside the Vic, Ronnie couldn't help but begin to cry.

What had she been thinking, assuming that she would be ok seeing Roxy and Amy; that she would be able to cope with the strain, after everything that had happened? And, what an awful lie she had told. This was nowhere near the biggest mistake she had made all week, this was nothing compared to what had passed and what she had still to face, but it had surely made things a hundred times worse.


	6. Chapter 6

In her new-found determination to discover the whereabouts of her own baby Amy, Ronnie had tried almost everything she could, spending hours trawling the internet every day of the week, as many hours of the day as she could manage. Amy might have been taken away many years before, died only a few short years after their parting, but for Ronnie her little baby was still very much alive and well; living a life in her memory, living in her sadness and regret, living in her longing for closure – in her longing to know where her Amy was buried, her longing to be able to say one last goodbye.

Her visit to the abortion clinic with Danielle, holding Roxy's baby Amy close, arguing with Roxy about Amy's parentage, these things were just the start. Ronnie knew that she would be pulled through the mill if she continued to pursue her ultimate goal with such relentless ferocity, but she no longer cared. Now her search for Amy meant more to Ronnie than anything else in her life. This search was her whole existence. Ronnie knew she needed closure, now especially, she needed closure. She needed to know exactly what had happened to her daughter; exactly how she had died, exactly when, exactly where she had been buried. She knew that she had tried almost everything she could, reams of information had been read and discarded, little use after her earlier phone conversation with the adoption agency. But Ronnie had tried all of these avenues nonetheless, finding them all, as she had expected, to be dead ends. Now she knew she only had one option left to try.

Tipping tentatively forward and backward on her kitchen chair, Ronnie held her mobile phone tight in her left hand, something she had become very used to over the last few weeks, willing herself to go ahead and call the last number on her list – the most difficult number to ring; every few moments her eyes flittered from the telephone's flashing screen to that of the laptop computer screen, also sat open in front of her, as she attempted to put herself off this most important of tasks.

This was the time, Ronnie tried to tell herself, over and over. The time had come to put aside her pain for the sake of her baby, to forget her stubbornness. It was time to talk to Archie. Ronnie held fast onto the one thin thread of hope that her father provided. He would know where her daughter was, he must know. She needed him to know.

But would he tell her, Ronnie thought? Could he be spiteful enough to keep such sacred information from her? Ronnie didn't know. She certainly knew that Archie had the capability to do something as cruel, she knew that first hand. After all, it was he who forced her to part with Amy in the first place. But this was all she had, this was the only ray of hope she had left. She needed Archie, she was counting on him. Everything she had, teetered on the razor sharp edge of Archie's knowledge. She hated the thought of it, but Ronnie needed her dad, now more than ever.

Ronnie dialed Archie's number hesitantly, with each number hoping that she was closer to knowing what she needed about her baby Amy, but even more pertinently, knowing that she was closer to having to face speaking to her father. Closer to finding out whether Archie's apparent hatred for her , disguised as supposed love, would extend to this; whether he could be cruel enough to deny her what she needed so desperately, leaving her alone at her final hour. Ronnie had been only a young teenager when Archie took her Amy away, but now, Ronnie was an adult. This information was her right; Archie had to give it to her. He simply had to – everything depended on it.

Ronnie grimaced as she heard her father's voice on the end of the line, "Well well, to what do I owe this pleasure?", Archie asked, in his typically mocking drawl, "so unexpected". Even before she had begun to speak, begun to explain herself, Ronnie could sense a hint of malicious intent in Archie's voice; she hoped beyond hope that this was just in her mind.

"We need to talk, dad", Ronnie replied, reluctant even to provide her father with a civil reply to his clearly sarcastic question, "I… I just have some things I need to ask".

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise, V. Cafe in ten minutes?", Archie suggested, not dropping his disdainful tone.

"Yes. I'll be there. Ten minutes", Ronnie replied quickly, before hanging up the phone in a feverish hurry, the speed of her breathing heightening as she realised that she would soon have to face her father in public. Sighing deeply, Ronnie got to her feet and began to apply a layer of makeup, eager to make her way to the café quickly so that she would arrive before Archie. She needed time to prepare herself, she needed to be in control, in control of herself and in control of the situation. It seemed colder than usual as Ronnie made her way into the street, skulking across the square, trying to avoid being seen or stopped. The number of people she felt she had to avoid had grown over the past few weeks as she closed herself off, throwing herself into her search for Amy.

Ronnie had built up all of her barriers, but now, here she was, risking knocking them all down again. Talking to Archie, talking to the one person who could always get to her, grating away at her very core. Archie could always find that niggling issue inside of Ronnie and pick away at it until it hurt her like nothing else could. Yet, she had to talk to him. This time she would force herself to stay strong, force herself to hold firm against her father and come away with exactly what she needed. It had gone too far, now was the time for Archie to tell the truth, to tell her exactly where her baby daughter now lay, cold and alone, in the ground. Alone. Ronnie couldn't bear to think of her daughter alone. She wanted to be with her, even if only for a few moments. To let her know that she loved her; that she had loved her the moment she held her in her arms for the first time, and every day since that moment. That she would always love her. That she would never forget.

Ronnie didn't know how she could explain all this to Archie, she didn't think that he would have the capacity to understand the love she still felt for Amy. But Ronnie could do nothing but hope that somehow Archie would react differently today, that today something would be on her side. In her hurry, Ronnie reached the café within five minutes of ending the phone conversation, but upon entering the café she saw Archie already sitting inside, leaning relaxed against the back wall, a knowing smirk on his face, one coffee in his hand, another on the table in front of him.

"I got you a coffee, love", he said, smiling wryly at Ronnie as he saw her enter, her eyes flitting wildly around the room as she checked who already resided in the café, her face clearly dropping when she noticed her father. One point to Archie, Ronnie thought, sighing heavily.

"Thanks", she replied, in a measured tone, giving little away as she took a seat opposite her dad and brought the warm drink to her lips, hiding her face with her hands, as if in a last ditch attempt not to give herself away before she was absolutely ready.

"So, what was it you wanted V, darling?" Archie drawled, "This is all very nice. But it's not like you to want coffee with your old dad, is it?",Archie opened his eyes wide and rolled them back, as he watched Ronnie like a hawk, as she made every effort not to catch Archie's roving eye, he stared straight at her, boring through the coffee cup, forcing her to look up at him almost subconsciously, "Well?"

"Well, it's about…. It's just", Ronnie stuttered, she couldn't form her sentence. The words she wanted to hear ran through her head, but the words she was almost certain Archie would actually supply seemed to be running far more quickly across her mind.

"Well, come on V, spit it out", Archie's tone was no longer mocking, but increasingly irritated.

"I've been looking for her, for Amy. I need to know where she is, dad", Ronnie spoke quickly, as she watched the changing expression on Archie's face in horror, "Please. Dad. I need you to tell me what you know. I need to see her grave, I need to say…". Ronnie tried to keep her tone powerful; she wanted it to seem like she was in control, but before she could finish Archie interrupted, jumping in with his own two pence.

"Keep your voice down Veronica," he snapped, grabbing Ronnie's wrist with his hand, almost knocking the coffee clean from her grip. Ronnie pulled her arm back and placed the coffee cup safely onto the table.

"Why should I keep my voice down? It's not a secret," Ronnie hissed, "At least, it isn't anymore." Her eyes were now wild with anger, fear and regret; anger that Archie had began to talk to her so cruelly within only a few short minutes, fear that she wasn't going to get what she came for, regret that she had done the wrong thing, gone about this the wrong way, failed Amy once again. "Dad, this is not a joke", she pleaded, almost desperately. Feeding on the frantic tone of Ronnie's voice, Archie pulled his seat forward and leant in towards his oldest daughter, until she could hear his laboured breathing in her ear, feel his breath against her cheek as he spoke in a low voice, dripping with malevolence, "I won't be telling you anything about that damn child, Veronica. That thing was better off without you from the moment it…"

"Don't you dare", Ronnie cried, cutting Archie off. As she tried to jump to her feet, Archie grabbed hold of her wrist, this time pinning it to the table, her breath hitching as she slipped almost helplessly back into her seat. Archie used as much force as he could without attracting the attention of the other customers in the café, as he addressed his daughter a final time.

"You need to… _let_… _go_. That _thing_ has dragged you down your whole life. Forget her, Veronica. You will die trying to find what you want".


	7. Chapter 7

"You can't do this!" Ronnie insisted, her hand trembling under the force of Archie's tight grip, her head shaking as sweat began to drip from her forehead, and tears from her eyes, "You have no right to keep this from me. I need to know".

Ronnie shook her arm aggressively, eventually freeing it from under Archie's hand, as she attempted to fight back against his cruel words. Surprised that Archie had let her hand go free, Ronnie knew in her head that her feeble attempts to retaliate were most probably in vain, that answering Archie back was the worst thing anyone could do, least of all her, but Ronnie's heart would not let her just give in. She owed it to Amy to at least put up a fight. All of her searching had come to this. She could not just walk away, accepting that her father had won. Again.

Ronnie tried to lean forward towards Archie, she loathed getting any closer to him than she had already been, but she needed to gain control of the situation. Or at least, she needed to show Archie that she was not scared of him any more. That she was not going to hide away, shrinking into the background like a petrified fourteen year old child.

"You have to tell me. I have the right to know where is she, dad", Ronnie hissed her words, pointing her now free finger at her father and opening her eyes wide to emphasise her point. Her strained conversation with Archie had begun to draw the attention of the smattering of customers in the café. No doubt they were all tutting under their breath, another Mitchell row, they would be thinking. But Ronnie did not want Amy to become the subject of whispers and ridicule like everything else that ever happened with her family, so she kept her voice down as low as possible.

Even though Archie no longer had hold of Ronnie's arm, he was still very much the more powerful party present; sitting up straight in his chair gave him a height advantage over his daughter, and he knew that even by leaning forward towards her he could overpower Ronnie, both physically and mentally. Gritting his teeth, Archie kept his tone measured, his calm, low voice chilling, "Don't talk rubbish. You have no rights, Veronica. You don't deserve to know anything about her. You lost that chance years ago"

"You're right," Ronnie replied immediately, with a sneer, "I lost everything when _you_ took her away. But she is still my daughter. I have every right to know where she is." Ronnie was sick of hearing her precious baby Amy talked about as if she were a 'nothing', by her own grandfather, of all people, "I'm not a child any more. You can't treat me like this". Ronnie continued fighting back, a renewed determination evident in her words. She simply could not comprehend the hate that Archie seemed to have for only her, could not fathom what she had done to deserve this treatment. Having a child, she supposed. But for her, that had been a wonderful thing. Archie should have been able to understand that. It was so simple; Ronnie just wanted her dad to understand.

"I can treat you any way I like. You are still my daughter, you silly little girl", Archie snarled in reply. Ronnie could no longer keep her voice down as feelings of rage and disappointment reached boiling point inside her, "And, Amy is still mine!" She shouted out loud, jumping to her feet and knocking her chair to the floor with an almighty clatter.

"You're drawing attention to yourself Veronica! Sit down." Archie ordered, unable to keep his voice measured and under control himself, as he got increasingly more angry with his daughter's 'wild' demands and accusations. Hissing at an enraged Ronnie, his voice now taking on an urgent tone, Archie continued, "She is not STILL yours. She's dead Veronica." He scorned.

Pulling her chair to its feet in an undignified fashion, Ronnie fired her final words straight at Archie's face, her finger still pointing in his direction, "Don't you dare tell me what to do, and don't you ever, ever talk about my daughter like that again. You can't have it all ways, you know, dad"

Ronnie stumbled as she heard herself speak, "Dad. What does that even mean? You're supposed to be my father." Ronnie spoke her final words in utter disbelief, shaking her head. Throwing her hand to her mouth, feeling as though she might be sick, Ronnie raced for the door of the café, not giving a second thought to picking up her coat. Ronnie tried to ignore the fact that her dad had jumped straight to his feet to follow as she made her way back into the street, but within seconds she had tripped over in her hurry to get away, her feet buckling beneath her.

Finding herself on her hands and knees in the middle of the pavement outside the cafe, Ronnie could not bear to look up as the looming figure of her father arrived at her shoulder, "You're pathetic Veronica", Archie spat down at his ailing, now shivering daughter, throwing the coat he had retrieved from her chair down to the pavement beside her, "You don't know what you want. What you need. You never have. You think knowing where that child is will make you feel better? Well, you're wrong. It will tear you apart".

"How do you know, dad?" Ronnie asked, helplessly, reaching for her coat and attempting to wrap it around her body, but having trouble finding the sleeves with her shaking limbs. She knew now that there would be no bringing Archie around to her way of thinking. Really, she had always known, but now that reality was literally staring her in the face she felt all the more vulnerable, "You don't know the first thing about how I feel, how I would feel", Ronnie shouted back at her father, though still feeling unable to get to her feet as Archie continued to loom, "You proved that twenty years ago, and every day since."

"How many times do I need to repeat myself, Veronica", Archie had now knelt to his daughter's level so he could lower his voice, "You were fourteen years old; bright, intelligent, a pretty girl. That child ruined you, V. I did it for your own good. I did it because I _love_ you", Archie spoke with a venom in his voice, a tone Ronnie recognized only too well; the tone that he seemed to keep for any occasion she decided to broach the subject of her daughter. Leaning closer towards Ronnie's face, he now forced her now to cower consciously, pressing her body even closer into the pavement,

"No dad." Ronnie cried, trying to shout straight at her father, while shaking grit from her hands to reveal a number of small cuts upon her palms, her arms and hands still shaking, her fingers tinged blue with the cold, "That child…Amy, my baby. She was everything, she still is _everything_ to me. If you really loved me then you would have no trouble understanding that."

Unconsciously, Ronnie had begun to cower from her father, partly due to her proximity with the cold concrete pavement and partly due to the reality of defeat setting in, "You don't love me, dad. You never have. This is not love," she uttered, disgusted at him, at this situation. Tears had begun to form in the corners of Ronnie's eyes as she watched her father's face, the expression it held encompassing the blindingly obvious loathing and disgust he felt for her. How could he claim this was love? This was surely as far from love as anyone could go. Ronnie would not have been surprised if Archie had used his position, tall and strong over her feeble body, to physically, as well as mentally, kick her while she was down; kick her like one might kick an animal causing a nuisance. That was how Archie treated her, like an animal, like vermin.

"I've had enough of this rubbish" Archie cried, "I'm not going to tell you a thing. You need to get over this NOW. Grow up and move on." With that Archie stood up tall, turned and left Ronnie shivering, shaking, cold and alone on the street corner.

Burying her head in her hands, Ronnie ignored the fact that she seemed to be drawing a crowd, and began to shed the tears that she had kept pent up inside over the past few weeks. She had been so busy looking for Amy that she had not thought about the effect her efforts were having on her body and mind, but every word Archie had said had been like a dagger to her heart. Now she had nowhere left to turn, no avenues left that she could really pursue. Her Amy was gone. Out of reach, her memory dying with every breath that Ronnie took, with every tear she shed.

Ronnie did not know how many minutes she spent on that pavement, glued to the spot, unable to force herself to move despite the intense cold setting in as the sky grew dark and the night drew in. She had no idea how long it was before she felt a warm hand upon her shoulder, felt the presence of another person kneeling down to her side at street level. Really, it was only five minutes before Roxy arrived without a word, placing her hands under Ronnie's freezing arms as she helped her to her feet. Defeated, Ronnie obeyed without question, draping her arm around the warm body, despite being perfectly aware that it was Roxy who was helping her.


	8. Chapter 8

Roxy, almost dragging Ronnie's trembling body across the square, pressed her hands against the outside of her sister's shivering shoulders, allowing Ronnie to lean all of her weight onto her own shoulder. Ronnie didn't say a word as the pair made their way slowly towards her flat, her eyes glazed over, staring aimlessly ahead, tears still falling, and so, as if in answer to her silence, Roxy kept her mouth shut, guiding Ronnie without words. Roxy could feel her sister's whole upper body shaking from a mixture of cold and tears. Every few moments Ronnie would take a deep intake of breath, sniffing loudly and, in an undignified fashion, wipe one of her hands across her face in a vain effort to hide her emotion.

Although Roxy had not seen or heard Ronnie and Archie's exchange, a worried onlooker had been quick to retrieve her from the Queen Vic bar when they witnessed Ronnie collapsing to the floor outside the café, Archie shouting and screaming the odds at her feeble body cowering on the pavement, before leaving her shaking and crying, apparently unable to move. It had not been someone she knew, and as far as she knew, neither were they an acquaintance of Ronnie's, but Roxy was grateful for their unusual neighbourly attitude, as she now supported her broken sister, taking her home. There had been few occasions where Roxy had been the one to guide Ronnie home in such a state, in fact, Roxy thought, as she helped Ronnie climb the stairs as they arrived at her front door, this might have been the first.

Without a thought, Roxy took Ronnie's handbag from around her still shaking arm and began searching through it, looking for house keys, but before Roxy knew what was happening, Ronnie had responded suddenly, seeming to snap, apparently realising in an instant where she was, who she was with, who had guided her home. As if a jerk reaction, she grabbed the bag back from Roxy's grasp and clung onto it with both hands, pulling it close to her chest, "Roxy, don't… that's mine, please. I can do that." she exclaimed.

Alarmed by her sister's sudden movement, wondering what could be in her bag that was so precious, Roxy threw her hands up in defence, "Hey, whatever Ron, just trying to help". Watching as Ronnie began to rifle through her bag at lightening speed, her eyes darting backward and forward maniacally, Roxy began to worry more and more about the state Ronnie was in following her collision with Archie – not just physically, her quivering hands a clear indication that her sister was freezing cold, but also mentally. Roxy knew she could not just leave Ronnie like this, however stubborn her sister might be in the next few moments; she had to get to the bottom of the problem, whether Ronnie liked it or not. The first question, she couldn't help but wonder, was why Ronnie had been talking to Archie in the first place. She hated him even more than she hated her, didn't she?

Seemingly unable to find the door keys amongst her belongings, almost as if she wasn't really looking for them, Ronnie continued to plow her way through the contents of her bag. Reluctantly holding her hands out to offer help once again, Roxy approached Ronnie with caution, but in her determination not to let Roxy touch her, Ronnie let her bag drop to the floor, her hands unable to hold on any longer. Various bits and pieces fell to the floor with an almighty clatter, some items falling a few steps away from the sisters. Roxy could see that Ronnie was struggling to support her own body weight now, so knelt down with the intention of collecting her sister's belongings together for her. But, just as quickly as she had before, Ronnie jumped in, shouting at Roxy to leave her things alone, "Please, no Roxy, don't", she cried, holding out her hands in panic, grabbing the items nearest to her on the floor in a flurry of action. Roxy immediately stepped back, reluctantly letting her sister collect her make up, purse and keys from the floor, "Alright Ron, calm down, still just trying to help."

"I don't need your help, Roxy." Ronnie barked at her sister, "Please, just leave me alone". Ronnie took a customary intake of breath at that point, before turning away from Roxy to dig deep into her bag again, which was now propped on the ledge of her top step, clearly still looking for something other than her house keys.

"I think it's quite clear that you do need my help, Ronnie. Who just carried you across the square?" Roxy asked, sarcastically. Letting Ronnie continue the search of her bag, Roxy forcefully took the keys from her hands and turned them in the lock, opening the door in front of her sister, "You coming in?" she asked, the keys hanging from a gloved finger above Ronnie's head. At first, Ronnie took no notice of Roxy, who now stood at her shoulder in the threshold of the open door, but after a few moments she began to shake her head, "It's gone; it's not here", she sobbed, her breathing quickening with panic.

"What's not there? You're really not making any sense Ronnie." Roxy knelt back down to her sister's level and tried to look her in the eye, "What's gone, Ronnie?" Roxy repeated, sounding out each word warily, trying to sound considerate, despite starting to get irritated by Ronnie's clear disregard for the help she had given her. Roxy knew it must be something important she had lost, this really wasn't like Ronnie, even for after a run in with Archie this was unusual. Something in Ronnie's eyes seemed to have changed; they looked wild, lost.

"Oh God Roxy, where is it? Her letter, it's not here", Ronnie asked desperately. She still hadn't stopped looking through her bag, and as Roxy tried to lift her to her feet she resisted.

"Ronnie, nothing else fell out of your bag", Roxy insisted, "I don't know what letter you're talking about, but it definitely didn't fall out." Roxy sighed, "Look, you're not thinking straight right now. Come inside and get warm, I'll help you look for it in a bit if you want"

"Look, I really don't need your help, Roxy", Ronnie replied immediately, finally picking herself up from the floor in defeat. Grabbing her keys from Roxy's hand, she made her way through the hallway, knowing full well that Roxy would not heed her words. Luckily for Ronnie, that was exactly what Roxy did, so when her feet began to waver beneath her as she opened the door to her flat, finally giving way under the exhausting weight of her tears and shakes, Roxy was there to catch her sickly body, "OK, Ronnie, that's it. You're going to tell me what's going on", Roxy told her sister with a forceful insistence.

Helpless, Ronnie let Roxy help her remove her coat and guide her to the nearest chair, placing her bag on the counter in front of her. Pushing the laptop computer away to clear a space, Ronnie placed her heavy head into her hands. Behind her, Roxy noticed a piece of paper now sticking out from under the laptop, a letter it seemed, the name 'Ronnie' scribbled untidily on the front. "Is this what you're looking for?" Roxy asked, leaning over Ronnie's head to pick up the piece of paper. Jolting upwards at Roxy's words, Ronnie turned her body quickly and grabbed the letter from Roxy's palms, "Don't you dare look at that. It's private." Ronnie pounced.

"Ok, calm down," Roxy rolled her eyes, "No need to thank me." Pulling up a chair next to her sister, Roxy watched as Ronnie held the letter tightly within both of her hands. Roxy could see that the letter was crumpled, she guessed this wasn't the first time her sister had held onto it as if for dear life. "Thanks," Ronnie replied reluctantly, opening the letter, but not letting Roxy see any of the words written inside.

When Ronnie held this piece of paper in her hands she couldn't help but look at the words Danielle had written for her; she'd had this letter at her side throughout her search for Amy, spurring her on, but now that search was over, these words were all Ronnie had left. 'I know you regret ever having your baby', Danielle had written. Those words in particular sprang out at her each and every time she read the letter. Danielle had been wrong, so very wrong and Ronnie had wanted so much to prove that to herself, to her father, to everyone else. But, she had failed. Yet again, she had failed Amy and she had failed herself.

"Well, I guess you're not going to tell me what that thing says, then," Roxy quipped, piercing through the awkward silence that had begun to fill the room, "Are you at least going to tell me what happened back there? What were you doing, Ronnie? I mean, why…"

Ronnie's eyes looked up from her letter begrudgingly, "Please don't, Roxy. Please just leave me alone," she interrupted. Folding Danielle's letter back up again carefully Ronnie tucked it safely away under her laptop and got up from her chair, heading to a cupboard and retrieving a single coffee cup.

"I'm just trying to help you Ronnie – and you do need help, you can't hide that." Roxy took a deep breath as she watched her sister hurry about the kitchen, making a coffee only for herself.

"I am sorry, you know...for everything. Whatever's going on, I want to help you." Roxy got to her own feet now and moved to stand at Ronnie's shoulder, trying to take her hand, but her sister pulled away. "You can't help me. Not now. It's all over," Ronnie stated, shaking her head as her she poured boiling water from kettle to mug, in an almost robotic motion, not really acknowledging Roxy's apology but replying nonetheless.

"What's over? Ronnie, you're really starting to scare me," Roxy answered urgently, forcing Ronnie to put the kettle down and let her hold her hand. With the faintest of squeezes, Ronnie returned Roxy's show of affection, sighing as she realised she would eventually have to explain what was going on, that her sister would persist until the broke down. Ronnie slowly turned in Roxy's direction, keeping her head hung, almost embarrassed. "I was looking for her, Roxy. For Amy, for my Amy." She whispered her words, peering upwards briefly to watch the confused look on Roxy's face turn to one of realisation. Ronnie exhaled, "But it's over now. Dad, he wouldn't help me. I needed him to tell me what he knows, but he wouldn't."

Immediately, Ronnie turned back to her coffee making, pulling her hand from Roxy's, as if in an attempt to avert attention from the revelation she had just provided, but Roxy was not going anywhere. "What did he say to you, Ronnie? What happened? What were you doing outside the café?" Roxy's questions poured out in torrents. Roxy loved her dad, but she could quite believe that Archie would refuse Ronnie information about her daughter. Still, she needed to know exactly what had happened if she really wanted to help.

"He…he just refused to tell me anything about her. That man, he makes me sick, he hates me. I should never have thought…. Oh, I don't know what I was thinking." Ronnie began to talk in a stream of consciousness almost as if Roxy wasn't even in the room, her eyes staring straight ahead, her hands leaning all of her body weight onto the counter ledge, "It's just, I thought that after everything he might understand why I need to know. I really need to know. I can't live with this guessing, this uncertainty. I can't do it any more."

Roxy watched with deep concern as her sister began to bear her heart. Her words were still cryptic, but Roxy was sure she knew exactly what her sister meant by 'everything' – she had caused this sudden change in Ronnie. Her new baby, her clinch with Jack, her awful behaviour. She felt so guilty, and she hated it; Roxy hated feeling like this. Laying her hand down softly on Ronnie's hand, Roxy tried to find the right words to comfort her sister, but she was almost sure she would be unable to do so.

"I'm sorry, Ronnie", was all she could find to say.


	9. Chapter 9

"Why are you saying sorry?" Ronnie snapped, pulling her hand from under Roxy's, but turning her head in her sister's direction, "It's Archie's fault. It's all over because of him." Ronnie didn't think that Roxy would ever understand what she had to say, however hard she tried to explain, she knew that Roxy rarely, if ever, saw the side of their father that she did, that she was still daddy's girl. Roxy sighed, avoiding the fact that Ronnie was referring directly to Archie, somehow she felt she still needed to apologise, that this was her opportunity to show Ronnie that she did care, that she could take some responsibility for her actions. "I'm still sorry, Ron," she admitted, "I still wish I could do something to help you. Maybe I still can?"

"I don't think so, Roxy," Ronnie retorted, gripping her hot coffee mug in her left hand and making her way back over to the kitchen table, pulling her laptop in front of her, typing away vigorously as a distraction, although without any real purpose. "Dad was my last option. I tried so hard. I tried everything I could, everything! I didn't want to speak to him, but the adoption agency, they refused to tell me anything either", Ronnie took a sip of her drink.

"The agency? You rang them?" Roxy asked, slightly shocked at the lengths Ronnie seemed to have gone to already. Really, she should have known that Archie would be the last person Ronnie would go to, that she would have attempted to pursue numerous other avenues first, but the realisation that this really meant something to Ronnie was finally seeping in, "What did they say?"

"Of course I rang them!" Ronnie exclaimed, catching Roxy's eye, "That was the first thing I did." Ronnie took another sip of her drink, bringing the boiling hot cup to her lips each time she was about to speak, seeming to be trying to hide her lips before words escaped from them, "But… they said they couldn't give out any information over the phone…or to birth parents", she stuttered.

Ronnie's breath hitched as she spoke now, she was Amy's 'birth parent', that was all she was, she really did not mean anything at all. The words seemed so clinical, so detached, so meaningless. Maybe she didn't deserve to know anything about her once daughter – could she even call herself 'mother' anymore? Thinking back to earlier that month, to her fateful abortion clinic trip with Danielle, Ronnie shook her head; no, of course it meant something. She knew that Amy was dead, she knew that full well, but life, that meant something. Having a child, bringing a child into this world, that meant something. Something special.

Lost in her thoughts, Ronnie didn't hear at first when Roxy began to speak again, "Maybe we should try the agency again, Ron? Maybe they'll help us this time, we might be able to persuade them to tell us something," she suggested. Ronnie didn't reply, still staring into space. All of these things, they had to be of some importance or her whole life meant nothing, she thought. They had to mean something or her search had been futile. They had to mean something or the years she had spent longing to be reunited with Amy had all been in vain.

"Ronnie?" Roxy now shouted at her sister, waving her hand in front of her face, attempting to break her free from drowning in her own thoughts, "Ronnie, we should try again. We'll be able to find something, I'm sure."

"Why are you so sure, Roxy. How do you know?",Ronnie piped up as she realised she was still being spoken to, that Roxy was still in the room trying to talk to her, "And what is all this 'we' about? Why are you so keen to help me, anyway? Why are you even here?" Ronnie couldn't help but think that she only reason Roxy wanted to help her now was that she felt bad, she felt guilty, she wanted to make up for her mistakes. But that was not what Amy deserved. "This sudden insistence that you want to help, its hardly typical Roxy behaviour, is it? What is it you want?" Ronnie continued, her tone scathing.

"I told you. I just want to help," Roxy defended, sounding slightly hurt, but not overly surprised at the reaction she was getting from Ronnie. "If you don't want me here, then I can just go now. But if it hadn't been for me you'd still be out there in the street. You know that," Roxy waved her hand towards the door to illustrate her point. And Ronnie did know that Roxy was right, she knew she had been in a bad way out there. Archie had left her with nothing, absolutely nothing, and for a few short minutes her life had not been worth living. Moving, getting up from the concrete floor, it had all seemed too difficult. Roxy was right; she had helped her, she had been there for her.

"I just can't do it anymore, Roxy. Maybe she was right?" Ronnie stated, shaking her head, overwhelmed, talking to Roxy as if she knew exactly what she was talking about, not really thinking as the words formed on her lips, "Maybe they're all right, maybe I am better off without her."

"Who, Ronnie? Who said that? Dad…" Roxy enquired, wishing that she could be privy to Ronnie's inner thoughts, as her outward expression was becoming more and more difficult to understand, "The agency? Surely they didn't say you were…"

"No, of course not, Roxy." Ronnie jumped in, shouting now, annoyed that Roxy still had no idea what she was talking about, despite the fact that she had offered no explanation. "In her letter, she said she knew I was better off without her," Ronnie began, before taking a deep breath, her words now flowing in torrents, "Danielle…I took her to abort her baby, but she couldn't go through with it. She thought I always wanted rid of my child, that's what I told her. But I lied, I lied to her. This is her letter, Roxy." Ronnie pulled the piece of paper out from under the laptop and gripped it tightly in her hands again, waving it in front of Roxy.

"Danielle's pregnant?" Roxy asked, shocked, seemingly ignoring the rest of what Ronnie had just blurted out, "And you did what? Why? Why did you take her?"

"Because she was scared and I offered, it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I thought I'd be able to help. She seemed so alone." Ronnie shook her head in despair, "But it was so difficult to watch Roxy. So hard to be reminded of what I did. But Danielle did the right thing, Roxy, she didn't go through with it. She ran away, she did exactly what I should have done."

"Where is she now?" Roxy asked, watching Ronnie's face closely, knowing within seconds that she had asked the wrong thing. "How should I know where she is Roxy? I'm not her keeper." Ronnie snapped in reply.

"Well, I just thought, since you went with her that you might…" Roxy stopped mid sentence as she saw Ronnie open her mouth to butt in, "Of course, you're right, I suppose you've got other things to worry about now anyway." Roxy persisted, "You know, going back to the agency really might work, Ronnie. Look at you. This has happened now, you can't ignore it. You can't just give up."

"I don't understand, Roxy. I don't know why you're so adamant you want to help." Ronnie really didn't understand, this was so unlike Roxy. Yes, she needed all the help she could get, but she didn't want Roxy to help look for Amy if it was just a way of getting back in her good books, "Why now, why so suddenly?" she pressed.

"I'm your sister, aren't I? Am I not allowed to want to help?" Roxy asked, leaving Ronnie stumped. "I suppose…" Ronnie sighed, flicking a stray hair away from the front of her eyes, "You really think I should try the agency again? They already told me they wouldn't give any information out to birth parents."

"Totally," Roxy replied, smiling as she sensed Ronnie's barriers begin to fall, "You never know what they might tell you if you try them a few more times. Maybe you just need to go at them from a different angle."

"What kind of angle, Roxy?" Ronnie asked, raising her eyebrows, a hint of mocking in her voice.

"Well, I don't know exactly, do I? I think I've done quite enough thinking for today." As Ronnie hit her sister playfully on the arm, Roxy smiled to herself. Ronnie and Roxy; this was what she wanted. However broken Ronnie seemed to be, Roxy was sure things could only get better if they worked together. She knew she could be there for her sister. They would visit the agency as soon as they could, she thought. She just hoped that she was right, that the agency really would have something to offer Ronnie.


	10. Chapter 10

Mid March

"Keep in touch, yeah", Stacey insisted, "I've missed you. We've all missed you. All of us". Stacey clung onto her phone, "I love you, you know". The line clicked. Stacey kept the phone close to her ear, as if she might hear something more if she hung on a little longer. But the line was dead.

Roxy stood, teetering on the edge of the kerb outside Ronnie's flat, holding her sister's hand tightly within her own, neither saying a word. It was mid March, just over a month since Ronnie's visit to the abortion clinic with Danielle; the biting winter wind had begun to fade, yet still both Roxy and her sister shivered as they stood on the pavement waiting patiently for a black cab, which now made its way around the square.

Roxy's foot had begun to bounce up and down on the pavement, as the silent tension at what they were about to do began to mount. Pulling her hand from Roxy's to hail the cab, keeping the other stuffed deep in her pocket, holding on tight to Danielle's letter, Ronnie hissed at Roxy, annoyed, "Will you stop that Rox, please, can you just stand still?"

"Sorry Ron, I'm just nervous and…", Roxy halted mid sentence as she saw the incredulous look in Ronnie's eyes, "You know, I'm nervous for you. I just want this to work out", Roxy added quickly – she wanted this trip to be as easy as possible, but somehow she always managed to say the wrong thing and right now, so soon after Ronnie accepting her help at all, she knew she was skating on thin ice. But they were so close now; Ronnie had agreed to try the adoption agency again, one more time. This time they would travel there together, they would speak to someone in authority. Ronnie nodded as the car pulled up beside them, "I'm nervous too; more than nervous". Ronnie was almost whispering, "But you don't have to come if you don't want to"

"How many times Ron? Of course I'm coming. This was my idea from the start anyway", Roxy insisted, climbing into the car. _Her idea_, Ronnie thought, hesitating for a second while she pulled out the letter she had been holding within her pocket. Roxy thought everything was about her, always had done – but this was about Ronnie, Ronnie and her little baby Amy.

Opening up the horribly crumpled piece of paper, over a month old now, the cruel words that Danielle had left for her jumped off the page again, assaulting her as they did every time she read them – 'I couldn't get rid of my baby. I'm sorry I let you down. I know you regret ever having your baby, you're better off without her'.

Danielle thought she had let her down. Let her down? She was so hideously wide of the mark it made Ronnie sick. How could Danielle think that? Why Danielle had even asked for her opinion in the first place was beyond Ronnie. But, in a strange sense, she was glad Danielle had asked, glad she'd tried to help. Glad Danielle had written her this letter. If nothing else, thanks to Danielle, Ronnie had finally faced facts; faced the fact that she needed to know what had happened to Amy. Even if she had to carry a piece of paper around with her to remind her, even if it had taken the words of a young girl, little more than an adolescent, to spur her into action, Ronnie was glad.

Tearing her eyes away from the letter, Ronnie noticed the figure of another girl running towards her from the opposite side of the square. Stacey was clearly heading in her direction, and for some reason, unknown to her consciously, Ronnie did not jump into the car immediately. Instead, she watched Stacey approach, making no attempt to avoid the clash which was bound to follow, despite Roxy's pleas for her to hurry up and get into the cab. Stacey began to shout as she got closer, yelling at Ronnie to stay where she was, "Ronnie, wait a second", she called, as she arrived at the door of taxi.

"Oh great, what does she want?", Roxy moaned, under her breath, beginning to get annoyed at Ronnie's extended hesitation. Sighing, she apologised to the driver, assuring him that Ronnie would be mere seconds, before poking her head out of the door to interrupt the conversation now being held outside, "Are we ever going to get going?", she asked, butting in.

"Did you not hear what I just said?", Ronnie snapped in reply, exasperatedly causing Roxy to jump back into the cab, before turning to face Stacey, who had handed her a new piece of paper, this one folded neatly in half. Opening it, Ronnie saw that a phone number had been written across it; confused for a second, she looked up at Stacey, her eyes searching. "Its Danielle's", Stacey spoke as if it pained her to be conversing with Ronnie, "She called me a few days ago. This is her new number". Stacey hesitated a second before continuing, watching the cogs whirring behind Ronnie's eyes, "I thought you should have it".

"Did she ask you to do this?", Ronnie questioned, her voice slightly raised, her mind racing, "Did Danielle ask you to give me her number?".

Ronnie was confused; she had thought she'd never have to see Danielle again, never have to talk to her face to face. Danielle had her reasons for writing those words that now haunted her, and Ronnie didn't think she'd ever have to face finding out exactly what they were, however much they had spurred her into action – she didn't want this, she just couldn't deal with this now. It had taken her weeks to get over the fact that Danielle had run away from the clinic, fighting for the one thing that she'd had taken away, weeks more to agree to visit the adoption agency with Roxy after their initial rejection, and now this

Ronnie thrust the paper back at Stacey's chest in a flurry, "I'm sorry, I can't do this right now", she snapped. Stacey stared at Ronnie, her mouth wide open, "Two weeks ago you…". Stacey stopped, shaking his head, "What am I saying? I knew you'd let her down again"

"What do you mean, 'again'? Don't you dare suggest any of that was my fault!". Ronnie's finger was pointed directly at Stacey's face, and Roxy had now climbed out of the taxi to stand at her side, closing ranks, "I didn't volunteer for any of this, you know"

"I know Ronnie, 'she asked you', I've heard it all before", Stacey retorted, "Haven't you considered that Danielle might just need a friend? A friend, Ronnie! Someone to talk to? Goodness knows why she set her sights on you, but she did. She looked up to you and you let her down"

"Don't you dare! Back off Stacey", Roxy jumped in. Seemingly ignoring her sister's attempts at support, Ronnie continued. "Danielle had you", she spat back at Stacey, keeping a firm grip on the letter in her pocket, as if trying to hide the words it contained from her rival, "She had you, she didn't need me. Anyway, it's been weeks, it's not like she's been trying to get in contact with me. I gave her a chance".

"But it was you she took with her, Ronnie. You she wanted. She didn't want me there, she wanted you", Stacey choked on her words. She still had no idea why Danielle had gone to Ronnie Mitchell instead of her, but clearly she'd had her reasons. Danielle hadn't asked her to do this, but somehow she knew it was right for Ronnie to know where Danielle was, "But clearly you didn't want to be there. Clearly you don't want…"

"That's enough", Roxy chipped in again, shouting now, aware that this was getting too much for Ronnie, "Leave her alone, leave us alone". She knew that if they waited much longer the cab would leave and they wouldn't get to the adoption agency today, maybe not at all; it had taken her so long to persuade Ronnie that going was a good idea, and she wasn't about to let Stacey and her big mouth set Ronnie back again, she just didn't need it.

Ronnie shot a look at her sister, an 'I can sort this out myself' look, before pointing her finger once again at Stacey's face, "You know nothing about what I want. I never said I didn't want to speak to her – I said I couldn't face it at the moment"

"Take this then", Stacey forced the piece of paper back into Ronnie's hand, "You need to sort yourself out; make up your mind. Don't be such a coward. You think this has been easy for Danielle, making this choice? She really needs us, Ronnie; both of us".

When she was sure that Ronnie had the number in her hand, Stacey turned and left the pair of sister's standing beside the car, staring agape after the girl who had interrupted their journey. The driver, clearly irritated, began to tutt repeatedly before knocking on the window, indicating that they should climb in or he would leave. Roxy shook her head, trying to pull herself together, "We should go, Ron", she said, pointing at the car door, which still stood wide open from where she had vacated her seat, "Don't let her get to you", she added, pulling Ronnie's hand as hard as she thought she could towards the taxi.

"Alright, Rox. I'm fine", Ronnie replied, pulling her hand back and climbing into the taxi herself. "Let's go, then", she told the driver, stating their destination monotonously as Roxy took her seat. As the car finally pulled away, Roxy could see the driver rolling his eyes in the rear view mirror. Averting her own eyes, slightly embarrassed, Roxy turned to look at Ronnie, surveying her face; it was still, unmoving, her eyes staring straight ahead, fixed on the driver's seat in front of her.

Roxy took her sister's hand and gave it a squeeze, pleased that this time Ronnie didn't pull it away, "It'll be ok, Ron, you know", she said to her sister, whose eyes did not move to acknowledge her, "You're doing the right thing, we're going to sort this". Ronnie didn't say a word, but Roxy didn't see her silence as an indication she should stop talking herself, "Don't listen to Stacey, she's talking rubbish. You make your own decisions, you don't need to have anything to do with that girl if…"

"Please, Roxy, you're not helping", Ronnie stated cuttingly, piercing her own silence, interrupting Roxy in full flow. Ronnie hadn't shown Roxy Danielle's letter, Roxy still had no idea what it said. Of course, she had seen the effect of the words it contained, but she didn't know exactly what they were, exactly how Danielle had managed to pinpoint those words which would hit her the hardest. Roxy knew this was difficult for her sister, but Ronnie knew that Roxy would never understand quite how difficult. She would never comprehend what she had gone through, what she was still was going through, even if she did have her own child now.

Ronnie said nothing for the rest of the journey, and finally realising that now was the time to keep her mouth shut, that her words would not help, whatever they were, Roxy followed suit.


	11. Chapter 11

Anna looked up from her computer screen tentatively, her fingers pausing for a second upon her keyboard, as the sound of the door opposite opening resonated around the room. The clock on her computer flashed the time tauntingly; eleven am, it read – still the morning, still hours left of her shift. Lifting her eyes from the word document on the screen, which she'd been pondering over for hours but not really getting anywhere with, Anna watched as two blondes made their way through the open door. The first was shorter than the second, but both were 'bombshells', as her boss might have commented, had she been working that day. But today she was on her own; a blessing, she had thought moments earlier as she relished the silence in the room, a silence which had now been disturbed.

Anna sighed as she watched the door spring shut behind the second woman, as both made their way over to the desk; neither had spoken, but the shorter woman had now reached the counter and was leaning towards her, much too close for her liking. Anna took her fingers away from the keyboard and smiled widely, as she had been trained, "Can I help you madam," she asked, her tone polite, though tinged with a whisper of anxiety.

She had barely worked with the agency for two weeks, but she'd heard and seen things she had never expected the day she applied; this was just a filler job, a receptionist role, but somehow she had become irrevocably involved in the stories of so many women. Anna supposed she had been naïve not to expect some degree of trouble from a job with an adoption agency, but as she saw these women approach the reality hit once again. Somehow she knew these 'customers' weren't going to be easy.

"Well, I certainly hope so," the shorter woman replied, rolling her eyes as little as her taller companion arrived at her side, hanging back at first, "We're looking for some information".

Roxy turned back towards her sister, tilting her head towards Anna in an encouraging fashion; she needed Ronnie to be at the centre of this, to be the driving force of their investigation, or there really was no point at all. If Ronnie didn't want to be here, then their trip to the adoption agency was simply another one of her hair-brained plans, gone wrong. After Stacey's intrusion on their journey Roxy knew that Ronnie was shaken, but she needed her sister to pull herself together. She needed to see the boisterous, animated Ronnie, the Ronnie that knew what she wanted and got what she needed. Not the Ronnie that gave up at the first hurdle; not this Ronnie, Roxy thought, sighing. Not the Ronnie that Archie seemed to have created by his return to her life.

"Ronnie?" Roxy said, her voice slightly sharper, repeating the tilting movement of her head, "We need information" she repeated, now staring at her sister, who had her own fixed on the counter, though not looking Anna in the eye. Roxy gritted her teeth as she watched Ronnie, who stayed stock still, showing no sign of approaching the receptionist with the question she wanted so badly to ask. Irritated by Ronnie's silence, Roxy turned back to the girl behind the counter, who seemed to be almost cowering, and continued, "Like I said, we'd like some information, about my sister's daughter".

Roxy turned back towards Ronnie and this time stared directly into her eyes; they were brimming with tears, Roxy could tell, and full of fear. Holding her hand out, Roxy took Ronnie's hand in hers and squeezed, as the receptionist spoke again, "You're not the mother, madam?" Anna asked, her voice wavering a little

"No, I just told you, she was my sister's daughter", Roxy replied, her irritation still clear.

"She is my daughter", Ronnie said, suddenly speaking as she heard Roxy's words; she spoke too quietly for Anna to hear, but just loud enough for Roxy, who sucked in a quick breath at her clear mistake. Letting go of Roxy's hand, Ronnie stepped forward to the counter, and began to speak, "I rang a week ago, about my daughter, Amy Mitchell? My name's Ron…Veronica Mitchell?"

"I'm afraid I don't remember, madam", Anna said, seemingly pleased that Roxy was no longer speaking to her, "I've only been here for a couple of weeks," she added. Anna took a quick breath in, wishing that her training had involved details about dealing with situations like this. In truth, it had been more of a tour of the reception desk, and an IT lesson.

"I only rang a week ago, I just told you that", Ronnie snapped, "I was looking for information about my daughter, about Amy Mitchell". Taking a deep, laboured breath, Ronnie continued, "My daughter died a number of years ago, I want to trace her. I need to find her"

"Oh, wait one moment", Anna said, beginning to realise that she did remember the voice of this woman; she had shouted, hung up the phone in a hurry, "I do remember". Pausing, Anna pressed a few buttons on her keyboard, apparently searching for some information. After a few seconds she looked back up at Ronnie, "You didn't update your details with us, madam. It says here that you didn't want…"

"Of course I didn't", Ronnie replied immediately, "She can hardly contact me, can she? Her adoptive parents sent a letter to my father saying she had died. I just want to know where her grave is. I need to talk to the people who adopted her". Ronnie spoke quickly, her voice getting steadily louder, but Anna spoke quietly in reply, "I'm sorry madam, we can't give out…"

"You can't give me any information, right? I'm only her birth parent, after all", Ronnie butted in before Anna had the chance to finish her sentence, "What a surprise", she seethed. "Look, I knew this was a bad idea", Ronnie sounded defeated as finished, turning to Roxy, who still stood at her side.

"No, it wasn't a bad idea Ron. Surely they have some information on her. They must do," Roxy said, trying to sound reassuring, though beginning to wonder if she'd done the right thing in making this suggestion. Turning back towards Anna, she pointed towards the computer screen, "Look her up. Amy Mitchell? Born 1989. Please, look her up now".

"Look, I can't give you any details about Amy. It's against the rules. I'll lose my job", Anna spoke as quickly as Ronnie now, "I am sorry. I really am". Roxy was livid, her eyes wide, "Who cares about the rules?" she shouted, "This is someone's daughter we're talking about, my sister's little girl".

"I understand, madam, I really do. I just… I just can't", Anna looked down at her computer screen, trying her utmost to avoid looking either woman in the eye. She hated this situation; she wanted to help them, to help Ronnie, but she didn't want to accept the repercussions, which there would surely be.

Sighing, she looked up reluctantly from her screen back in to the eyes of the women, "I guess I could…I suppose I can tell you about the...". Ronnie's eyes widened considerably at Anna's most recent words, "This agency. When we found her, your daughter, when we found her a home… we used to be in Birmingham." Anna tripped over her words, watching like a hawk as the expressions on the faces of both women changed suddenly.

"Birmingham?" Ronnie asked, confused, "Are you sure? Do you have an address? What about where she is now? She's still in Birmingham? She must be, that must be where she's buried?", uncontrollably, Ronnie's questions escaped her mouth as quickly as they filled her own head.

"We have no address in Birmingham now, madam. This was years ago. Look, I'm sorry, I've already told you too much. I shouldn't hand out information to anyone, never mind birth…," Anna stopped short, changing tack as she saw Ronnie's eyes narrow once again, "Please, I can't tell you any more. All I can suggest is checking the death records for Birmingham for that year. You might find something

"Birmingham?" Ronnie repeated, her question not to Anna this time, but to herself. Her baby was in Birmingham, she must be. Ronnie smiled, her search had been stalled for so long, but now it had legs again. Now it had direction. She would go to Birmingham; there she would find Amy, she would finally lay her to rest for good

"I've got to go to Birmingham, Roxy", Ronnie said, grabbing her sister's hands, "She's in Birmingham. Amy is in Birmingham, Roxy"

"The agency was in Birmingham", Roxy corrected, "The agency. They haven't given us anything to go from really," Roxy caught Anna's eye. "You can't get your hopes up Ron"

"What are you talking about? They've given us everything we need" Ronnie rushed her words out in a flurry, overcome, "We can move to Birmingham, find out when she died. Find out where she is now. I've got what I need"

"I can't move to Birmingham, Ronnie. You know I can't. Neither can you. Not now, not before Dad's wedding" Roxy sighed, "Look, let's take this outside". Roxy took Ronnie's hand and attempted to lead her back through the doors, but Ronnie shook her off, shouting with astonishment at Roxy's protestation, "Do you seriously think I care about dad's wedding when I have the chance to find Amy? I have everything I need now, everything that _he_ wouldn't give me. We wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for him – you must see that? I'm going Roxy, I'm going to find her, whether you're coming with me or not!"


	12. Chapter 12

Roxy scurried into her darkened Queen Vic bedroom, adjusting her top with a spare hand before glancing at her watch quickly, as she settled Amy down into her cot. As she took a bite of a piece of toast, which she clutched precariously in the same hand as that which had held Amy, choking a little, she sighed heavily at the time, 9:15am; she was late, really late, and Ronnie wouldn't want to wait around. Roxy shook her head and leant down to plant a kiss on sleeping Amy's cheek, before cooing quietly into her ear. "Sleep well, baby", she whispered, exiting the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Finishing her toast, Roxy poked her head into the front room, and finding it empty, realised that Peggy must be in the bathroom.

Roxy knocked twice, and fastened her ear to the toilet door, "Aunty Peg, you in there?" she called, "Aunty Peg?", she repeated more loudly, when no answer came, "You said you'd watch Amy? You're going to be out in a minute, right?" Knocking on the door again, Roxy finally heard Peggy inside the room, and continued, "I have to go Peg, Ronnie will be at the station in like five minutes - she already thinks I don't care, you know I…"

"Alright Roxy", Peggy said, exasperatedly opening the bathroom door, a towel tied ungracefully around her head, "I heard the first time, off you go".

Peggy rolled her eyes a little as Roxy thanked her, pulled on a coat and ran down the stairs. Smiling, Peggy let herself into the child's bedroom quietly, not turning on the light, and moved quietly to stand next to the cot where Amy lay, her small body moving backwards and forwards just slightly as her lungs inhaled and exhaled, the sound of her breathing the only noise in the peaceful room, besides the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall above the bed.

Peggy breathed in deeply, relishing the almost silence for a brief moment as she stroked Amy's soft, slightly reddened cheek. The last few days had been such a rush, as the days before a wedding always were. These few weeks, however, had somehow been more stressful that she had expected – not simply because Ronnie had so suddenly left for Birmingham with a fortnight to spare before her big day, in the process denouncing her position as bridesmaid. More so, because it had taken all the possible efforts of herself and Roxy to persuade Ronnie to change her mind, to return and to take up her important position once again.

In just two days she would marry Archie Mitchell, Ronnie and Roxy's father. She loved him so much, and she knew, however strangely he showed it, that in turn he loved his girls. Roxy had explained Ronnie's reasons for disappearing so abruptly, but somehow Peggy could not grasp why she would do this now. Even more confusing for her, however, was Archie's apparent nonchalance with regards to the situation. He didn't seem to care that his eldest daughter would not be around for their union, saying that it was her decision, that he could not force her to return if she had 'more important things to do'.

But this was her father's wedding, her father's wedding to her aunt, and she had chosen a wild goose chase, as far as Peggy could tell from Roxy's explanation, over what was the most important day in both of their lives. Peggy knew that Ronnie was somehow ruled by the loss of her child - that had become more and more apparent over the years she'd been in Walford - but why she had gone, at this awkward time, Peggy could not at all understand. Peggy knew she couldn't dwell on Ronnie's actions any longer – she was, at least, coming back for the day. After much persuasion that it would not be the same without her, she had finally agreed to return just before the wedding and to stand aside Roxy and her father at the church, performing her role as bridesmaid like a dutiful daughter.

She was coming back that day; Roxy had probably already met her at the station. Roxy planned to take Ronnie to the café; she had told Peggy that she would talk to her about things that needed to be done for the wedding, but truthfully, Peggy knew that Roxy would want to find out more about her trip to Birmingham. Ronnie had not been at all forthcoming on the phone; Roxy had rung her numerous times, with either no response from her sister at all, or short phone conversations providing a simple assurance that Ronnie was 'doing alright'.

Taking her hand away from Amy's face, Peggy sat down on the double bed behind her, breathing in deeply once again, and twisted her engagement ring round her finger. Whatever had happened, whatever was still happening, she knew things would be ok. The people most important to her would be together for her happy day, she would marry Archie and her son and nieces would be there by her side.

-

As she ran breathlessly across the square, Roxy doubted that Ronnie was 'alright' at all; she knew her sister resented her for choosing to go home to support their father instead of coming to Birmingham to support her. Peggy had told her that Ronnie was just being selfish, and that she shouldn't worry so much, but deep down Roxy did nevertheless. She had chosen Archie over Ronnie, her father over her sister – that was how Ronnie saw it.

That fear was bubbling up inside her as she made her approach to the tube station entrance, panting as she arrived with seconds to spare, as Ronnie made her way through the barriers, a single bag in hand. Her face was drawn and pale, and Roxy was sure she looked thinner than she had two weeks earlier.

Roxy smiled as she attempted to catch Ronnie's eye, but her steely-eyed sister did not return her efforts, "Ronnie!" she exclaimed, as her sister walked in her direction but kept her head hung, apparently aiming not to acknowledge Roxy's shout, "You're back?" Roxy stated, as Ronnie approached, not really sure what else she could say but stating the obvious, "I thought I was going to be really late, looks like the tube let us down again?" Roxy blabbed, "You should give me that bag" she added, as an afterthought, holding out her hands, "Looks like you need a hand".

"I'm fine", Ronnie said defiantly, walking straight past, Roxy turning on her heels to follow. Ronnie's hair swished in the wind, as she walked purposely away from the station, towards her flat. Roxy skipped along behind, not giving up on Ronnie yet, "You sure? You look like you need something to eat. Or a drink, maybe?" Roxy suggested. Ronnie shook her head, sighed with a hint of annoyance and continued walking.

"Oh, Ron, I really thought we could go to the cafe, get a coffee or something?" Roxy persisted, shouting after her and running to keep up, as she realised where Ronnie was going, "We really need a catch up, right?"

"I don't think so", Ronnie replied, "I've been travelling for three hours, I just want to get home and rest. I said you didn't have to come and meet me. I'm a grown woman, you know".

"I know that, Ron, don't be silly. I just thought we could chat. There's stuff you need to tell me, I'm sure. And we need to talk about… well, you know", Roxy could tell that Ronnie wasn't listening to her suggestions, and since she was clearly getting nowhere in changing her mind, she changed tack, "Right, well you can make me a coffee at yours them. I'm pretty hungry, you know. You got anything in?"

"Do I have much choice in the matter?" Ronnie asked finally, stopping as she arrived at the foot of the steps up to her flat, swinging her bag around to search for her keys, Roxy catching up seconds later. Roxy smiled, knowingly, shaking her head. "Well, you can come up for a bit. But I really don't feel like much of a chat. And no, I don't have 'much in'", Ronnie relented, rolling her eyes, "unless the fridge fairy's been over", she added under her breath, as she turned to walk up her steps.

"I guess not", Roxy pondered, "How about I go get some milk and coffee, you sort yourself out? I'll be back in two secs". Almost skipping across the square, Roxy heard her sister's sarcastic reply somewhere behind her, suggesting that she waited more like two hours to return, but she had decided already that she would not heed her words.

Taking a deep breath and nodding to herself as she watched Roxy run across the square towards the shop, Ronnie resigned herself to the fact that her apparently rather upbeat sister was unlikely to listen to her pleas for a little time on her own. Her intentions were obvious, indeed Roxy was just about as subtle as a steam train; she wanted to know about Ronnie's trip, she would ask questions and sift for all the details she could. More than likely, moreover, she would want to discuss their father's wedding, a topic further down Ronnie's list of things to worry about than most other issues.

She was back in Walford, home from Birmingham and as far away from her daughter as she could possibly be, she was sure of it. That was all she really cared about now, but for the next few days Ronnie knew she would have to put her own worries aside. She needed to focus on getting through her week at home for the sake of Roxy and Peggy, if not for her own father. If truth be told, she'd have rather forgot he existed than celebrate the very fact, but she knew there were others who really did care about him, and for them, she would have to be on her best behaviour. She would be the loving sister and devoted daughter – she would put on the act, the sickening act that she hated, but that was required now more than ever.

Lifting her bag back onto her shoulder, ready to walk up the stairs, Ronnie took another deep breath in and let the air out again in a long, laboured sigh. Here she was at square one; it was a cliche, but one that fit so perfectly to her situation. Roxy wanted answers, but even though she was back in Walford she still had none to give. She had no more clues - no names, no dates, no addresses. She had nothing.


End file.
